"But I can't afford to keep you if you go away."
"Of course you can't. You won't have to keep me. I'm going to keep myself."
Again he stared. This was preposterous.
"It's all right, Papa. It's all settled."
"By whom?"
"By me."
"You've found something to do in London?"
"Not yet. I'm going to look—"
"And what," inquired the Vicar with an even suaver irony, "can you do?"
"I can be somebody's secretary."