“Now then, let’s to business.”
Business? Well yes, it was the great business of life, thought Miss Heathery, as she held her hands to her heart, ready to pour out the long pent-up sweetness with which it was charged.
“Look here, Miss Heathery,” he went on, “I always liked you.”
“Oh! Mr Thickens,” she sighed, but she could not “look here” at the visitor, who was playing dumb tunes upon the red and lavender check table-cover, as if it were a harpsichord.
“I’ve always thought you were an extremely good little woman.”
“At last,” said Miss Heathery to herself.
“You’ve got a nice little bit of money in our bank, and also the deeds of this house.”
“Don’t—don’t talk about money, Mr Thickens, please.”
“Must,” he said abruptly. “I’m a money man. Now look here, you live on your little income we have in the bank.”
“Yes, Mr Thickens,” sighed the lady.