"I was a beast, but I was not a liar."
"It isn't necessary to be a beast, to be truthful," he reminded her.
"I made her cry," she said. "Father used to do that. Do—do you think I'm like him?"
"Like your father? Good Lord, no!" he said, in horrified haste; then apologized. "I—I mean, Mr. Payton was a very able man, I had great respect for his brains; but he was—severe."
"'Severe'? Well, I'm 'severe,' I suppose? No; the trouble with me is, I'm hideously truthful—and I like to be."
CHAPTER V
The ridiculous part of Fred's dash for freedom was that she actually picked up a client or two! Of course, her commissions did not quite pay for the advertising that brought the clients—"But what difference does that make?" she demanded.
Arthur Weston, who had come up to the "office" on the tenth floor to check over a bill for her, said, "Oh, no difference, of course. You remind me of the old lady, Fred, who bought eggs for twenty-four cents a dozen and sold them for twenty-three cents. And when asked how she could afford to do that, said it was because she sold so many of them."