Yet now she was tempted to use it. Only
her subconscious sense of humour, which warned her it would be
ridiculous from Peter Rolls's "saleslady" to Peter Rolls himself, made
her bite back the words that rushed to the end of her tongue.
"You have a strange idea of putting things delicately!" she cried.
"You offer me a reward if I--if I--oh, I can't say it!"
"I can," volunteered the old man coolly. "And I'll tell you just how
much I offer. Maybe that'll help your talking apparatus. I'll give you
ten thousand dollars. Wouldn't that be something like making your
fortune in New York?"
"If it were ten millions it would make no difference," the girl flung
at him. "I---"
"Say, you set a high value on my son Peter. But if he marries you, my
girl, he won't be worth any millions, or even thousands, I tell you
straight. He won't be worth a red cent. You'd better pick up my offer
while it's going, and drop Peter. Maybe with ten thousand dollars of
your own, one of your young cousins, the earls, might find you worth
while."
Never had Win even dreamed that it was possible for a human soul so to
boil with anger as hers had now begun to boil.
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