"Do you hear, Silvie? He says he is perfectly satisfied with us, and he is a typical New Yorker. Therefore, we need not be at all disturbed about our capacity for entertaining anybody, if somebody will only offer us employment." Silvette looked around at him. "I’d like to have you see us in our afternoon gowns; I believe you’d really be rather proud of the relationship." "Good Lord!" he exclaimed, half laughing, half annoyed; "I’m proud of it anyway. What on earth do you think a New Yorker is?" "We’ve seen _some_," said Diana meaningly. "Several came here in answer to our advertisement. But we knew, of course, that your type existed, too." "Have you been—annoyed?" Silvette laughed. "One man, of very red complexion, inquired if Diana would act as his housekeeper. He had several country places, he said." "There was a woman came; we didn’t care for her," added Diana thoughtfully. Then, lifting her head, she looked at Edgerton with a gaze so pure and sweet, so exquisitely candid, that he felt his heart stop for a moment. Then the blood mounted to his face—to the roots of his hair. "Take me into your partnership," he said impulsively; "will you?" "What!" "Can you? Is it all right?" "I don’t know what you mean!" said Diana. "Why couldn’t I help entertain week-ends with you?" The proposition seemed to astound them all, even the young fellow who had made it. For a moment they all stood silent; then, pursuing his own impulsive idea toward a plausible conclusion, he said: "Why not, after all? It would make a better combination than two young girls alone. I’ve clothes—two trunks in there, two more at the customs—London made and duty paid! Why not? It’s a good combination. The more I think of it the better I like it!" He began to pace to and fro nervously. "I know a lot of people—the right kind. I’m not ashamed to ask them to employ me. There is no reason why a Tennant or an Edgerton should not be in their houses——" "But," said Silvette quietly, "the _right_ sort of people, as you call them, have no need of asking anybody to aid them in entertaining. It is very generous of you, Mr. Edgerton, but don’t you see that services of our kind will be accepted only by—by newcomers, newly wealthy people—those whose circle is small and not very select." "Yes, that is so," he said so forlornly that Diana watched him curiously, and a delicate color came into her cheeks as he looked up again, eager, radiant. "That’s true," he repeated; "but if I can’t do anything in that way for us among the right sort, at least the other kind will have a man to reckon with"—he glanced at Diana grimly now—"when they inquire about housekeepers, and when women whom you do not care for reply to your advertisements." "That is rather a nice thing to say," observed Silvette, looking at him out of her dark eyes. "But we know—a number of things. We are not a bit afraid, and—you would not care to—endure the kind of people likely to employ us."