"I'm sorry," I said softly.
"Well," said Abby, "never mind that! So you see you need have no reticence about offering me money. I can earn it, I assure you."
Of course this was astonishing, but at the same time it really was an immense relief. For I knew dear Mr. Pegg never hesitated to pay a proper price for the genuine article, as he himself was wont to put it. And I had in truth been most anxious as to how I should approach my distinguished relative upon so delicate a matter as remuneration for the peculiar services which we required. And so, though in a sense I was shocked by her frankness, it made my path far easier, particularly since her own lack of delicacy in the matter warranted a larger degree of out-spokenness upon my part. And I had something important to say. Her opening gave me an opportunity not likely of renewal, and so I at once rushed into the breach.
"My dear, I grieve for your loss," said I; "and for the unfortunate condition of your widowhood. And it is a most happy circumstance that we can be of benefit to each other at this time. Mr. Pegg intends to offer you a thousand dollars each for introductions to titles. And a bonus, I think he called it, of ten thousand dollars for—er—I believe he termed it 'working capital.'"
"Splendid!" exclaimed Abby. "Now go ahead and tell me the buts."
"The buts?" I queried. "Do you infer that there are restrictions to Mr. Pegg's offer?"
"By the gleam in your eye I know there are!" Abby affirmed.
"Well," I admitted, "Mr. Pegg has not expressed his desire that there be any; but I have one of my own."
Abby gave me a most peculiar look at this, her eyes narrowing and her lips curling in a distinctly unpleasant smile. It filled me with an acute, though undefined, sense of discomfort.
"Very well," she said quietly. "How much do you want?"