“Will you? Will you? I mean it,” he went on, almost argumentatively.
He was very much in earnest, but alas! the fire, the passion of the importunate lover was missing. She shrank back into the corner of the couch, staring at him with puzzled eyes. Comprehension was slow in arriving. As he hurried on with his plea she began to see clearly, her sound brain grasped the significance of this sudden decision on his part.
“There's no use waiting, dear. I'll never be more capable of earning a living than I am right now. I can go into the office with Brooks any day, and I—I think I can make good. God knows, I can try hard enough. Brooks says he's got a place there for me in the bond department. It won't be much at first, but I can work into a pretty good—what's the matter? Don't you think I can do it? Have you no faith in me? Are you afraid to take a chance?”
She had smiled sadly—it seemed to him reprovingly. His cheek flushed.
“What has put all this into your head, Freddy dear?” she asked shrewdly.
“Why, good Lord, haven't we had this very thing in mind for years?” he cried. “Haven't we talked about my———”
“What put it into your head—just now?” she insisted.
“I don't know what you're driving at,” he floundered.
“Don't you think it would be safer—I mean wiser if you were to wait until you are quite certain of yourself, Freddy?”
“I am certain of myself,” he exploded. “What do you mean? What sort of talk is this you are———”