Bob had looked at her, and then looked away. “Have you thought that you might get the money from Towne?”
Her startled gaze had questioned him. “Get money from Mr. Towne?”
“Yes. Oh, why not, Janey? He’ll do anything for you.”
“But how could I pay him?”
There had been dead silence, then Bob said, “Well, he’s in love with you, isn’t he?”
“You mean that I can—marry him?”
“Yes. Why not? Judy says he’s crazy about you. And, Jane, it’s foolish to throw away such a chance. Not every girl has it.”
“But, Bob, I’m not—in love with him.”
“You’ll learn to care—— He’s a delightful chap, I’d say.” Bob was eager. “Now look here, Janey, I’m talking to you like a Dutch uncle. It isn’t as if I were advising you to do it for our sakes. It is for your own sake, too. Why, it would be great, old girl. Never another worry. Somebody always to look after you.”
The wind outside was singing a wild song, a roaring, cynical song, it seemed to Jane. She wanted to say to Bob, “But I’ve always been happy in my little house with Baldy and Philomel, and the chickens and the cats.” But of course Bob could say, “You’re not happy now, and anyhow what are you going to do about Judy?”