“Just the thing. I’d like that immensely. No one can help that way like Elice.”
“Let’s consider it settled then.” His point carried, Roberts’ great hands were loose in his lap again. “I had just one other matter I wished to speak about to-night. How’d you like to accept a position under me with the new company?” He did not elaborate this time, did not dissimulate. “I’ll personally guarantee you 212 four thousand a year, beginning January first, with three weeks’ vacation.”
“How would I like it!” For the third time Harry Randall fell to polishing his glasses; but this time, in spite of an effort to prevent, his hand shook visibly. “You don’t need to ask me that. It would be a miracle; only—only I’m a bit afraid of a position of that kind—afraid it would be too big.”
“The company would expect you to earn it, of course,” impassively.
“But I’m not worth it. I know that and I don’t want to accept under false representations. It’s beyond me.”
“Beyond nothing!” curtly. “If I say you’re worth it, you are. I’ll make you so—help if necessary. Do you accept?”
“Accept, yes, and thank you. I won’t protest, or presume to misunderstand your intent in offering it to me. I realize you’re giving me a chance to make good where I failed to fulfil my obligation with Margery.” The voice was not so steady as it might have been and for an instant Randall halted. “If you don’t mind, though,” he went on, “I’d like to ask you a question. I can’t conceive why you, a stranger, practically, should do all this for me. I’m 213 simply confused, it’s all so unprecedented. Why do you do it, please?”
Into Darley Roberts’ eyes crept the old odd smile that spread no farther.
“You mean it’s all so unprecedented—of me,” he returned bluntly.
Randall said nothing. It was true.