My
name's Earl Usher. Honest truth, 'tis, off the bills! Y'will come
along, won't you?"
"You're very kind," Win began in the conventional way that he had
laughed at in the morning. Then, afraid of being teased again, she
said that she must go home.
"I don't know what my landlady will think," she excused herself. "I
walked out early this morning, never dreaming I should be gone until
late at night."
"Well, she can't kill you," suggested Miss Kirk, "and, anyhow, you're
leavin' the end of the week. I think you'll be real mean if you won't
come. I know what your reason is, and so does _he._ He ain't nobody's
fool. Do you s'pose I'm the sort would do anything myself, or ask you
to do anything, that wasn't all right? We ain't in the Four Hundred,
nor yet in court circles, I _don't_ think. And this ain't London nor
it ain't Boston. Thank Gawd it's little old N'York."
"But---" Win persisted, and stopped.
"I know what's got her goat," said Earl Usher. "It's that slush o'
mine this morning about not bein' a millionaire and my face needin' to
be fed. I thought afterward 'that's no talk for a gen'leman to use
before a lady.' Well, I may not be a millionaire at present, but I can
see my way to feedin' our t'ree faces and not feel the pinch.
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