“Nonsense!” cried Dick. “Don't be a baby. Come in.”
Together they entered and, laying aside her wrap, Iola sat down and drew forth Barney's letter.
“Listen, Dick. I want your advice.” And she read over such portions of Barney's letter as she thought necessary.
“Well?” she said, as Dick remained silent.
“Well,” replied Dick, “what's your answer to be?”
“You know what he means,” said Iola a little impatiently. “He wants me to marry him at once and to settle down.”
“Well,” said Dick, “why not?”
“Now, Dick,” cried Iola, “do you think I am suited for that kind of life? Can you picture me devoting myself to the keeping of a house tidy, the overseeing of meals? I fancy I see myself spending the long, quiet evenings, my husband busy in his office or out among his patients while I dose and yawn and grow fat and old and ugly, and the great world forgetting. Dick, I should die! Of course, I love Barney. But I must have life, movement. I can't be forgotten!”
“Forgotten?” cried Dick. “Why should you be forgotten? Barney's wife could not be ignored and the world could not forget you. And, after all,” added Dick, in a musing tone, “to live with Barney ought to be good enough for any woman.”
“Why, how eloquent you are, Dick!” she cried, making a little moue. “You are quite irresistible!” she added, leaning toward him with a mocking laugh.