" Susan shook her head. "No--that would be
foolish--very foolish."
He was watching her so keenly that his expression was covert
suspicion. "What do you suggest?" he asked.
"Not what you suspect," replied she, amused. "I'm not making
a play for a gift of a fortune. I haven't anything to suggest."
There was a long silence, he turning his glass slowly and from
time to time taking a little of the champagne thoughtfully.
She observed him with a quizzical expression. It was apparent
to her that he was debating whether he would be making a fool
of himself if he offered her an independence outright.
Finally she said:
"Don't worry, Freddie. I'd not take it, even if you screwed
yourself up to the point of offering it."
He glanced up quickly and guiltily. "Why not?" he said.
"You'd be practically my wife. I can trust you. You've had
experience, so you can't blame me for hesitating. Money puts
the devil in anybody who gets it--man or woman. But I'll
trust you----" he laughed--"since I've got to."
"No. The most I'd take would be a salary. I'd be a sort
of companion."
"Anything you like," cried he. This last suspicion born of a
life of intimate dealings with his fellow-beings took flight.
"It'd have to be a big salary because you'd have to dress and
act the part. What do you say? Is it a go?"
"Oh, I can't decide now."
"When?"
She reflected. "I can tell you in a week.
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