"Then still there may——"
"You've as much chance," said Beatrice, with flashing eyes, "as a bob-tailed dog in fly time! There's one of your own Americanisms for you, and I hope you like it!"
Ashford Billing could not help laughing, though Beatrice seemed in a thoroughly bad temper.
"Say, that's fierce!" he said, relapsing. "Where did you hear that?" Then he became graver. "But I won't worry you any more. I'm sorry ... but I guess I'll study to improve my manners."
"Let's get to business," said Beatrice, sitting down. "I'm tired to death of this. What is it you want?"
"Well," he said, following her example, "I came here for two things. The first was to ask you to be my—oh, yes! good enough! I know that's a back number now. For the present, anyway. If that didn't materialize I wanted to know if you'd care to tour the provinces in A False Step. You know we close down in a week, and I'm going to start the tour—number one towns only—in the autumn."
Beatrice shook her head.
"No; I'm going to take a rest."
"You'll have lots of time to take a rest before the tour starts. Why not——"
"Look here, Ashford! You seem to think that I don't know my own mind in anything. I've already refused your offer for a London shop, and I don't mean to think about the provinces. See? I won't be worried any more—I'm——"