City and town life -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction
Tembarom regarded her with tender curiosity. She often opened up vistas
for him as he himself opened them for the Duke of Stone.
“If you hadn't had me, would you have let him treble your income in a
year?” he asked.
Her expression was that of a soft, woodland rabbit or a trusting
spinster dove.
“Well, of course, if one were quite alone in the world and had only a
small income, it would be nice to have it wonderfully added to in such
a short time,” she answered. “But it was his friendly solicitude which
touched me. I have not been accustomed to such interested delicacy on
the part of--of gentlemen.” Her hesitance before the last word being the
result of training, which had made her feel that it was a little bold
for “ladies” to refer quite openly to “gentlemen.”
“You sometimes read in the newspapers,” said Tembarom, buttering his
toast, “about ladies who are all alone in the world with a little
income, but they're not often left alone with it long. It's like you
said--you've got me; but if the time ever comes when you haven't got me
just you make a dead-sure thing of it that you don't let any solicitous
business gentleman treble your income in a year. If it's an income that
comes to more than five cents, don't you hand it over to be made into
fifteen. Five cents is a heap better--just plain five.”
“Temple!” gasped Miss Alicia. “You--you surely cannot mean that you do
not think Captain Palliser is--sincere!”
Tembarom laughed outright, his most hilarious and comforting laugh. He
had no intention of enlightening her in such a manner as would lead her
at once to behold pictures of him as the possible victim of appalling
catastrophes. He liked her too well as she was.
“Sincere?” he said. “He's sincere down to the ground--in what he's
reaching after. But he's not going to treble your income, nor mine. If
he ever makes that offer again, you just tell him I'm interested, and
that I'll talk it over with him.”
“I could not help saying to him that I didn't think you could want any
more money when you had so much,” she added, “but he said one never knew
what might happen. He was greatly interested when I told him you had
once said the very same thing yourself.”
Their breakfast was at an end, and he got up, laughing again, as he
came to her end of the table and put his arm around her shoulders in the
unconventional young caress she adored him for.
“It's nice to be by ourselves again for a while,” he said. “Let us go
for a walk together. Put on the little bonnet and dress that are the
color of a mouse. Those little duds just get me. You look so pretty in
them.”
The sixteen-year-old blush ran up to the roots of her gray
side-ringlets. Just imagine his remembering the color of her dress and
bonnet, and thinking that anything could make her look pretty! She was
overwhelmed with innocent and grateful confusion. There really was no
one else in the least like him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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