“Don’t ask me,” repeated the girl. “You’d remember what I said—and it wouldn’t do any good. Let’s forget it.”
“Of course I’d remember. I want to remember,” pressed the man. “You think I ought to accept?”
A moment the girl hesitated; then she looked him fair. 51
“Yes,” she said simply.
“And why? Tell me exactly why, please? You’re not afraid to tell me precisely what you think.”
“No, I’m not afraid; but I think you ought to realize it without my putting it in words.”
Armstrong looked genuine surprise.
“I suppose I ought—probably it’s childishly obvious, but—tell me, Elice.”
“To put it selfishly blunt, then, since you insist, I think you ought to for my sake. If an income you can depend upon means nothing in particular to you you might consider what it would mean to me.”
Unconsciously the lounging figure of the man in the chair straightened itself. The drawl left his voice.