"I suppose that's a sneer."
"Oh, no. I was only thinking."
"About love being all a woman needs to make her happy, I suppose?"
"No. Love is--Well, it isn't happiness."
"Because you let it run you, instead of you running it. Eh?"
"Perhaps."
"Sure! Now, let me tell you, Lorna dear. Comfort and luxury,
money in bank, property, a good solid position--_that's_ the
foundation. Build on _that_ and you'll build solid. Build on
love and sentiment and you're building upside down. You're
putting the gingerbread where the rock ought to be. Follow me?"
"I see what you mean."
He tried to find her hand. "What do you say?"
"I'll think of it."
"Well, think quick, my dear. Opportunity doesn't wait round in
anybody's outside office . . . Maybe you don't trust
me--don't think I'll deliver the goods?"
"No. I think you're honest."
"You're right I am. I do what I say I'll do. That's why I've got
on. That's why I'll keep on getting on. Let's drive to a hotel."
She turned her head and looked at him for the first time since
he began his discourse on making one's way in the world. Her
look was calm, inquiring--would have been chilling to a man of
sensibility--that is, of sensibility toward an unconquered woman.
"I want to give your people that order, and I want to help you."
"I want them to get the order. I don't care about the rest,"
she replied dully.
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