“It brought us together.”
“Yes, that’s just it. And now it’s brought us together——”
“We can drop it?” He had seen her point.
“I don’t want you to go on working for them,” she pursued; “I want you to work for us—for me.”
Jimmy nodded. “I’ve thought of that as well,” he answered.
“They give you a wretched salary, and when you’re an old Gazook and nobody wants you, they say, ‘Perhaps it’s time he got married,’ and put you in charge of a little office like that at Seacombe.”
“That’s it,” said Jimmy.
“Banking’s no good in this old country unless you’re somebody’s son, or rich on your own account. But I know what,” she added, brightening.
Jimmy sat up.
“You must get into some regular article like woollens or cottons or manufactured things—a good salesman’s always got a chance.”