I said:
"You don't have to support poetesses if they are the right sort. All I want is enough money to carry me to Chicago. I'll get work of some kind then."
"Well, let's see," he said. "I'll get you your ticket, and then you'd better have, say, a hundred dollars to start with."
"No! no!" I cried out. "I couldn't use a whole hundred dollars."
"What?"
"I never had that much money in my life," I said. "I shouldn't know what to do with it."
He laughed shortly.
"You'll know all right," he said, "soon after you get to Chicago." Then he added almost bitterly, "You'll be writing to me for more within a week."
"Oh, Mr. Hamilton, I won't do that! I'll never take any more from you—honestly I won't."
"Nonsense!" he returned lightly. "And now come along. You have time for a bite of luncheon before your train leaves."