“They don’t make them where I am.” He laughed. “I’m just another worker.”
“I thought you were way up in one of the big houses.”
“Well, sort of a clerk which doesn’t pay much. It’s a good way to starve.”
“You ought to do something different. Suppose you marry some girl....”
“I’m not getting married for a long time.”
“I suppose,” said Marjorie Ventusa calmly, “that you got some nice society girl all lined up.”
Robert Holton shook his head. “I haven’t any girl anywhere.”
“Isn’t that like life. All the handsome men don’t have girls and they wonder why so many of us are old maids.”
“You’re not an old maid yet, Marjorie. By the way, what’s your last name? As long as I’ve known you I’ve never known your last name.”
“Ventusa.” She spelled it for him.