"Oh, but it wouldn't be fair," he objected.
"Why not? I'd love it. See, I'd get overtime."
Sally was really prompting Gaga in this last sentence. He frowned, and moved one of his long hands impatiently across some crumbs which lay before him on the table.
"Oh, money...." he said. "More than overtime. We'd.... I say, it's splendid of you. It's a splendid way to do it."
"Would you like it?" breathed Sally, her heart beating faster at the implication. Gaga reddened. His lips were pressed together.
"It would be perfect!" he cried, vigorously.
"How lovely!" Sally's face broke once more into that expressive grin. They sat smiling at each other, almost as lovers do who have stumbled upon an unsuspected agreement in taste. The mood lasted perhaps a minute Then it changed ever so slightly. "Would Madam mind?" next urged Sally.
Gaga's face clouded. She was watching him breathlessly, and saw his fists clenched. His tongue moistened the lips so lately compressed. His head was inclined. At last, dubiously, he spoke.
"I wonder," he muttered. "I haven't said anything to her. I don't think...." His face fell still more, until it was undetermined. "I'm afraid.... I'm afraid ... perhaps she mightn't like it. You see, she's ... she's ... rather.... She doesn't like anybody.... She mightn't quite ... understand."
Sally's contentment vanished abruptly. Her heart became fierce, and her tone followed. It was rough and hard, with a suggestion of despair and of something less than respect for Gaga.