“I do trust you, Mr. Treplin,” she said, and held out her hand. “But—do I look as if I needed a chaperon?”
Toppy trembled at the firm grip of the small, gloved fingers.
“I told you I’d heard what Reivers said,” he said hastily. “I didn’t mean to; I was just coming in to get some blankets. I don’t suppose you’re going to stay here now, are you?”
She began to draw off her gloves.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “Mr. Reivers is a gentleman and can be depended upon to keep his word.”
Toppy winced once more. She had called him a “decent boy”; she spoke of Reivers as a “gentleman.”
“But—good gracious, Miss Pearson! Three hundred dollars——if that’s all——”
He stopped, for her little jaw had set with something like a click.
“Are you going to spoil things by offering to lend me that much money?” she asked. “Didn’t you hear that Mr. Reivers had offered to do it? And Mr. Reivers isn’t a complete stranger to me—as you are.”
She placed her gloves in a pocket and proceeded to unbutton her mackinaw.