“Certainly, little one,” was the smiling answer as he helped her into a carriage.
“Marion Marlowe would be furious if she knew I was going out with you after all,” she said after they had started, “and, of course, my chaperon, Miss Allyn, will think she has to tell her. Oh, I must manage to get home early so they will not know anything about it.”
“Any one would think I was an ogre or a monster of some sort,” said the lawyer, smiling down at her, “when really all I am doing is just giving you a little pleasure. Certainly there is no harm in a supper in a private room together.”
“Can’t we go to a regular restaurant?” asked Dollie, shyly. “I think I would prefer it very much, if you please, Mr. Atherton.”
The wily old lawyer leaned over and smiled at her before he answered. As he gazed into her eyes, he took her hand and pressed it gently.
“My dear child, you are as safe with me as you would be with your own father,” he said, purringly. “Do, Dollie, raise those sweet eyes and tell me that you trust me.”
“Oh, I do trust you, of course,” said the girl, a little more bravely, “but I keep thinking of Ralph, and it makes me nervous.”
“Ralph is the young man whom you are engaged to, is he not?” he asked, suavely. “Well, can Ralph give you nice dinners and take you to theatres, and can he buy you pretty dresses and jewelry, Dollie?”
“No, he can’t—not now,” said Dolly, a little sadly. “Ralph is only a book-keeper on fifteen dollars a week. We mean to be married as soon as he gets twenty.”
“And I can give you twenty dollars a week for your own self,” said the lawyer, quickly, “and I will do it, too, Dollie, if you will give up this fellow.”