As she did not offer any audible support, he demanded, after a pause: "Isn't it?"
"I daresay she will have something to say about that," she said, temporizing. "She is her own mistress, you know."
"But the poor girl doesn't know where to turn," he protested. "She'd chuck it in a second if something else turned up."
"I spoke of marriage, you will remember," she remarked, drily.
"I—I know," he gulped. "But we've just got to tide her over the rough going until she's—until she's ready, you see." He could not force the miserable word out of his mouth. "Now, I have a plan. Are you prepared to back me up in it?"
"How can I answer that question?"
"Well, I'll explain," he went on rapidly, eagerly. "We've got to make a new position for her. I can't do it without your help, of course, so we'll have to combine forces. Now, here's the scheme I've worked out. You are to give her a place here,—not downstairs in the shop, mind you,—but upstairs in your own, private apartment. You—"
"Good heavens, man! What are you saying? Would you have Lady Jane Thorne go into service? Do you dare suggest that she should put on a cap and apron and—"
"Not at all," he interrupted. "I want you to engage her as your private secretary, at a salary of one hundred dollars a month. She's receiving that amount from the Smith-Parvises. I don't see how she can get along on less, so—"
