"We won't talk of money. You've given me a lot of enjoyment. That's my pay."
"But this other—this studyin' in New York. No, I couldn't let you do that. I couldn't—I can't take a cent from you or from any man—woman either, for that matter. I'll find some way—workin' nights. But I'm not goin' back," she added almost fiercely between her teeth, "not to the way I was before. I won't. I can't."
"Good. That's the way great careers are made. I don't intend that you shall. I'm going to make a great singer of you, Beth."
She colored with joy.
"Are you, Mr. Nichols? Are you? Oh, I want to make good—indeed I do—to learn French and Italian——" And then, with a sharp sigh, "O Lord, if wishes were horses——!" She was silent again, regarding him wistfully. "Don't think I'm not grateful. I'm afraid you might. I am grateful. But—sometimes I wonder what you're doin' it all for, Mr. Nichols. And whether——"
As she paused again Peter finished for her.
"Whether it wouldn't have been better if I hadn't let you just remain—er," he grinned, "a peach, let's say? Well, I'll tell you, Beth," he went on, laying his pipe aside, "I came here, without a friend, to a strange job in a strange country. I found you. Or rather you found me—lost like a babe in the woods. You made fun of me. Nobody had ever done that before in my life, but I rather liked it. I liked your voice too. You were worth helping, you see. And then along came Shad. I couldn't have him ordering you about, you know—not the way he did it—if he hadn't any claim on you. So you see, I had a sense of responsibility for you after that——About you, too——," he added, as though thinking aloud.
His words trailed off into silence while Beth waited for him to explain about his sense of responsibility. She wasn't altogether accustomed to have anybody responsible for her. But as he didn't go on, she spoke.
"You mean that you—that I—that Shad forced me on you?"
"Bless your heart, child—no."