She meant, "Keep it; please do. Keep it, for my sake."
"It's a pretty good book; didn't you think so?" he asked.
"Yes; I liked it ever so much. He married the right one, after all, didn't he?"
"Might have done it before," Ogden commented. "No earthly reason why not. Only you know how they spin these things out."
There was a sudden shutting down of windows over their heads. Ogden drew out his watch, and turned it so as to profit by the lamp-post on the corner. "Why, I'd no idea!" Burt and Cornelia had not returned from the park, or, if so, had passed on the other side of the street. "Good-night."
"It isn't late, is it?"
"Only for a North-sider."
"Good-night," she said, slowly, and sat alone on the steps until her father came down and called her in.
On the first of July Brainard summoned George into his own private room.
"We have about decided to have an assistant cashier here," he said. His voice was gruff, but his glance was a little sheepish. "Mr. Fairchild thinks it will be convenient about signatures and a good many other things. Burt's out a good deal and likely to be off all through August, and I don't like to have drafts signed in advance. You could make up the reports, too, and swear to 'em. Besides, it's elective—puts you in the Bankers' Almanac, for one thing. As to salary, I suppose we could stand an extra five hundred—or six."