Page:The City of Masks (1918).djvu/141

Rh "My dear man!" cried the Marchioness, in amazement. "What are you talking about? In the first place, I haven't the slightest use for a private secretary. In the second place, I can't afford to pay one hundred—"

"You haven't heard all I have to say—"

"And in the third place, Lady Jane wouldn't consider it in the first place. Bless my soul, you do need sleep. You are losing your—"

"She sends nearly all of her salary over to the boy at home," he went on earnestly. "It will have to be one hundred dollars, at the very lowest. Now, here's my proposition. I am getting two hundred a month. It's just twice as much as I'm worth,—or any other chauffeur, for that matter. Well, now what's the matter with me taking just what I'm worth and giving her the other half? See what I mean?"

He was standing before her, his eyes glowing, his voice full of boyish eagerness. As she looked up into his shining eyes, a tender smile came and played about her lips.

"I see," she said softly.

"Well?" he demanded anxiously, after a moment.

"Do sit down," she said. "You appear to have grown prodigiously tall in the last few minutes. I shall have a dreadful crick in my neck, I'm afraid."

He pulled up a chair and sat down.

"I can get along like a breeze on a hundred dollars a month," he pursued. "I've worked it all out,—just how much I can save by moving into cheaper lodgings, and cutting out expensive cigarettes, and going on the water-wagon entirely,—although I rarely take a drink