"But that's absurd, Betty—for you to be working—as a stenographer, of all things! A girl with your looks and your gifts and all that's back of you."
"You mean that I should make marriage my profession?"
"Well—well——"
"Probably that's why we keep missing each other, Penny. I've pinned my flag to the principle of economic independence. You're looking for a girl who will marry for a living. There are lots of them. Pretty, attractive girls, too. Your difficulty is, you want that sort. You really believe all girls are that sort at heart, and you think my independence a fad—something I shall get over. Don't you, now?"
"Well, I'll confess I can't see it as the normal thing. Yes, I believe—I hope—you will get over it."
"Well—" Miss Sheridan slammed her book shut and stood up—"I won't."
She stepped to the door.
"And the agreement stands. I want to keep on working. And I want to keep on being fond of you. That agreement is necessary to both desires." She opened the door, hesitated and a hint of mischief flashed across her face. "I'll tell you just the person for you, Penny. Really. Marriage is her profession. She's very experienced. Temporarily out of a job—Alys Brewster-Smith."
He snatched a carnation from the glass on his desk and threw it at her. It struck a closed door.