"In the first place—" He hesitated. The ground that stretched between them now was firmer, but still uncertain. One false step might lose him much of what he had gained. "There's the question of your future," he went on, in a brisk, matter-of-fact tone. "I spent two months last year looking for a job in New York. I was about down to my last cent before I found it. It occurred to me that, perhaps, you—" He was beginning to flounder.
"That I am out of work?" she finished, calmly. "You are right."
Laurie beamed at her. Surely his way was clear now!
"I had a streak of luck last year," he resumed. "I collaborated on a play that people were foolish enough to like. Ever since that, money has poured in on me in the most vulgar way. I clink when I walk. Dollars ooze from my pockets when I make a gesture. Last week, at the bank, the cashier begged me to take some of my money away and do something with it. He said it was burdening the institution. So, as your adopted brother, I'm going to start a bank-account for you," he ended, simply.
"Indeed you are not!"
"Indeed I am!"
"I agreed to live. I did not agree to—what is it you Americans say?—to sponge!"
He ignored all but one phrase of the reply.
"What do you mean by that?" he demanded with quickened interest. "Aren't you an American?"
She bit her lip.