“No weeps,” he said. “No apologies. It’s no trouble to have you here. And here you remain, my gay and independent little friend, until you’re fit to resume this disconcerting career of yours.”
“I feel well enough to dress, if Mrs. Sniffen would give me my clothes.”
“Where would you go?”
She made no reply.
“Look,” he said, laying a hundred-dollar bill on the counterpane, “I did your story this morning. Here’s your commission.”
“Please—I can’t——”
“Then I shall tear up my story and hand back to the Planet six hundred dollars that I need very badly.”
She gave him such a piteous look that he laughed.
That matter settled, he relieved her of the tray, set it outside, and returned to seat himself in a rocking-chair beside the bed.
“When they pull the galley proofs of your story, would you like to read them, Eris?”