"Couldn't you use it?" eagerly.
She paused and then smiled brightly across the table at him.
"I'll try to, Jerry."
"And the five thousand a month?" he urged. "Oh, you don't know, Una. It isn't a third of my income even now and later I've got more—so much that I'm sick thinking of it. You've got to use it, somehow. If you can't help the women, use it on the men, or the children—"
"We might add a day nursery—" she murmured thoughtfully.
"Yes, that's it—a day nursery—wonderful thing—a day nursery. Add two of 'em. You must. You've got to plan; and if your organization isn't big enough to handle it, you must get the right people to help you."
He reached across the table, upsetting a teacup, and seized her hands in both of his. "Oh, you will, Una, won't you?"
She withdrew her hands gently and looked at him, on her lips a queer little crooked smile.
"What are you now? The philosopher, the enthusiast or the Caliph? You're very insistent, aren't you? I think you must be the Caliph—or the Grand Cham!"
"Then you agree?" he cried.