"It wouldn't be so bad if you came."
"We could have a fine time," said Peg, her eyes glowing. Already she saw Forrester handing out money for her wardrobe as well as for his wife's. Already she saw herself driving in his car and turning into a lady. She was sure she could live up to the part; she had brains, even if her education had been poor; but she had not got that inherent something which had come to Faith from her father and which made all the difference between the two girls.
"Well," she insisted, "shall I ask him?"
"If you like; but he won't let you, I know."
Peg did not believe that; she believed that Forrester would be glad to have his wife on any terms. When next she saw him she approached the subject with easy confidence.
The Beggar Man listened to her quietly and courteously, and when she had finished he smiled a little—a smile that somehow made her uncomfortable.
"It's a kind suggestion," he said, "but not possible. We shall have to live in my flat for the present, Miss Fraser"—he was always most punctilious about addressing Peg as Miss Fraser—"and I am afraid there would not be room for you." He hesitated. It was in his mind to say that in the future the friendship between the two girls would have to cease, but in the face of all that Peg had done for him he could not utter the words.
"I hope Faith will see you often," he added helplessly, man-like, saying the very opposite to the thing he wished to say.
"Oh, I dare say she will," Peg said laconically. She was not in the least offended by his refusal. If this scheme failed, she had others to fall back upon. "I'm fond of Faith, you know," she added.