“Oh, that's all right. I shall manage. You ought to be worrying about Fillmore.”
“Fillmore's got me to look after him,” said Gladys, with quiet determination. “You're the one that's on my mind. I lay awake all last night thinking about you. As far as I can make out from Fillmore, you've still a few thousand dollars left. Well, as it happens, I can put you on to a really good thing. I know a girl...”
“I'm afraid,” interrupted Sally, “all the rest of my money, what there is of it, is tied up.”
“You can't get hold of it?”
“No.”
“But listen,” said Mrs. Fillmore, urgently. “This is a really good thing. This girl I know started an interior decorating business some time ago and is pulling in the money in handfuls. But she wants more capital, and she's willing to let go of a third of the business to anyone who'll put in a few thousand. She won't have any difficulty getting it, but I 'phoned her this morning to hold off till I'd heard from you. Honestly, Sally, it's the chance of a lifetime. It would put you right on easy street. Isn't there really any way you could get your money out of this other thing and take on this deal?”
“There really isn't. I'm awfully obliged to you, Gladys dear, but it's impossible.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Fillmore, prodding the carpet energetically with her parasol, “I don't know what you've gone into, but, unless they've given you a share in the Mint or something, you'll be losing by not making the switch. You're sure you can't do it?”
“I really can't.”
Mrs. Fillmore rose, plainly disappointed.