But Steve was composed, even smiling, and as he came up to her she fancied her father had made everything all right as his check book had seen fit to do upon so many occasions. The slight worry over Steve’s possible folly vanished, and she felt it safe to proceed to reproach him for having been so horrid.
“Now, my dear Stevuns, why did you get me all upset? And yourself and poor papa, to say nothing of my having to send word at the last moment that we could not attend the dinner. Oh, Steve, Steve, will you ever be really tamed?”
“Come and sit beside me.” He drew out a notebook and pencil. “I must tell you some things.”
Rather curious, she obeyed, but keeping a discreet distance so her frock would not be ruffled. “I’m still cross,” she warned.
Steve was writing down figures, adding them and making notations.
“Look here, dear,” he began, patiently; “this is just where I shall stand––a poor man to your way of thinking, almost as poor as when I set out to win you. I’m going into a salaried job for a few years––a real hope-to-die job––and we can have a house–––”
“I thought we talked that all out before,” she interrupted, half petulantly, half wistfully. “Why 293 do you keep repeating yourself? You’ll be thumping your fists the first thing we know!”
“Do you fancy I am not going to do this? Are you not sufficiently concerned to listen, to realize that I have been a blind, conceited fool? But I have learned my lesson. I shall support my wife from now on and live in my own house or else I shall no longer be your husband.”
“Steve!”
She opened and shut her fan quickly, then it fell to the floor. But he did not pick it up.