“I can’t say it is your duty to—be good to me—but I hope it will make you happy. And by the rules of your own game, I have a right selfishly to insist on your being always sweet and wonderful to me, and to me alone.”
“Just what do you mean by that, Nolan?”
“Nothing, of course, but can’t you use your imagination?”
“No, I can’t. That is for brides and fiancées, not for unattached working girls like me.”
Then she ran on up the stairs, and Nolan went home.
True to arrangement, Tim had gone at ten-thirty, and Miss Weldon in a soft negligee was sitting alone pensively, before the fire.
“Tim has changed,” she said briefly. “I think he has more sense, but a little less—er—warmth, I might say.”
“Do you think so? He works very hard. He is fearfully ambitious and they think everything of him at the office.”
“Yes? Then he must certainly have changed. He was not keen on business at Salt Lake. He lost three jobs in eight weeks. That is why he came west. And his father has financed half a dozen ventures for him. But perhaps he has settled down, and will do all right. I love your little apartment, and it is dear to call it a Cloud Cote, and Mr. Nolan is perfectly charming. Timmy asked us to meet him at Rudder’s for luncheon, you and me and your Mr. Nolan, also.”
“Oh, that is nice,” said Eveley. “I’ll come up for you in the car a few minutes earlier. You won’t mind being alone most of the day, will you? I work, you know.”