“What hot?” said Kedzie.
“I've been sent up here to learn the trade.”
Kedzie had a horrible feeling that he must have lost his money. Wouldn't it be just her luck to meet her first millionaire after he had become an ex-?
But Dyckman said that he had come to try and engage Mr. Ferriday, and that sounded so splendid to Kedzie that she snuggled closer. Ordinarily when a woman cowers under the eaves of a man's shoulder it is taken for a signal for amiabilities to begin.
Dyckman could not imagine that Kedzie was already as bad as all that. She wasn't. She was just trying to get as close as she could to a million dollars. Her feelings were as innocent and as imbecile as those of the mobs that stand in line for the privilege of pump-handling a politician.
Jim Dyckman kept forgetting that he was so rich. He hated to be reminded of it. He did not suspect Kedzie of such a thought. He stared down at her and thought she was cruelly pretty. He wanted to tell her so, but he found himself saying:
“But I mustn't keep you. I heard somebody say that you were to lie down and rest up.”
“Oh, that was only Mr. Ferriday. I'm not tired a bit.”
“Ferriday. Oh yes, I'm forgetting him. He's the feller I've come to see.”
“He can't be approached when he's working. Sit down, won't you?”