“But,” he said, “in other ways—if you’re leaving here, can’t I help you to find some other sort of—occupation? I’m a newspaper man; I know all sorts of people. I should be more than happy to help you.”
She bowed her head gravely.
“Thank you! I know enough of the world to appreciate kindness. You are very good—very kind. I had a little plan. I thought perhaps I would give private lessons in my home, if I could find pupils.”
“I’d like to come, very much.”
“Oh, no! With you that is not possible. At least, not now. You have paid for a course of twenty lessons here.”
“I’d rather take them from you.”
“But you have paid!” she cried, with a sort of horror. “You must not waste that money!”
He smiled, with a slight feeling of superiority toward this foreign thrift.
“I’ll arrange it,” he said.
So before the end of the lesson she gave him a card on which was engraved: