"Why do you care what I do?" he cried, almost fiercely. "Why do you tell me to go ahead, to do something? What difference does it make to you? Will you tell me?"
She returned his look steadily, answered steadily, not hesitating.
"Because it seemed to me a shame for a man like you to be a pawn in a game all of his life while he might be playing the game himself, directing the pawns."
"And there is no other interest?"
"A friend's interest. For," smiling at him, "I believed what you said when you told me that we were going to be friends."
"We are." He spoke slowly, thoughtfully. "You have talked very plainly to me to-day, and I can do no more and no less than to thank you. You have told me several things. Some of them are true. I don't know that I agree with the others. You have a way of looking at life, at the world, which is new to me. I must think it all over. I shall know how to think, what to do, to-morrow."
She looked at him questioningly.
"For to-morrow I shall have decided. And then I shall ask for my time and quit, or—"
"Or—?" she asked, quickly.
"Or I shall tie into my work in earnest. I wonder which it will be?"