There was another silence. Again that dull weight of discouragement fell, and again she shook it from her.
"Nevertheless," she said quietly, looking him full in the face, "I mean to have Crothers in our firm." She saw the mingled liking and compassion which came in his eyes, and she bit her lip to keep down the wave of self-pity which arose in her.
"Perhaps you will," she heard him say. His voice sounded a long way off. She brought herself back to him with a jerk.
"Of course I will! We will, I mean! You and I are to work together, you know. Now will you please tell me," she continued grimly, "one person who knew my husband and who will be so very kind as not to call for the police the minute I come into view?" A moment later she started forward. "Oh, please!" she cried. "Do that again! You chuckled! Don't deny it! Go on and really laugh with me!" Her voice, unsteady and quivering, broke into a merry laugh, and in this Joe's partner joined. Then she said sternly. "You give me a friend!"
Nourse thought for a moment. "There's only one left on the list," he replied.
"His name, please—"
"Dwight."
"Business?"
"Music. He shows rich girls how to sing. She stared at him.
"But look here," she said emphatically. "I'm a rich girl—I'm very well off—and I certainly propose to sing! I used to, in the choir at home—and I was told I had quite a voice! And I meant to take lessons in New York—of a tall dark man with curly hair—"