"No more do I," said he, agreeably.
"I suppose you are accustomed to driving in—er—in good society, Trotter. You know what I mean."
"Perfectly. I have driven in the very best, madam, if I do say it as shouldn't. Beg pardon, I daresay you mean smart society?" He appeared to be very much concerned, even going so far as to send an appraising eye around the room,—doubtless for the purpose of satisfying himself that she was quite up to the standard.
"Of course," she said hastily. Something told her that if she didn't nab him on the spot he would get away from her. "Can you start in at once, Trotter?"
"We have not agreed upon the wages, madam."
"I have never paid less than forty a week," she said stiffly. "Even for bad ones," she added.
He smiled, but said nothing, apparently waiting for her to proceed.
"Would fifty a week suit you?" she asked, after a long pause. She was a little helpless.
"Quite," said he.
"It's a lot of money," she murmured. "But I like the way you speak English. By the way, let me hear you say: 'It is half after four, madam. Are you going on to Mrs. Brown's.'"