Part 7 (1/2)
Smilingly she returned his injured look fair in the eyes. Still smiling, she watched him as in silence he recrossed slowly to his place.
”Yes, you're right--as usual,” he admitted at last. ”You do know me.
Apparently all my friends know me, better than I know myself.” He shrugged characteristically. ”But you haven't answered my question yet.
What do you think of my accepting?”
”I try never to think--about the useless. You won't accept.”
”You may be mistaken, may compel me to against my best judgment.”
”No, you won't do that. I shan't influence you in the least.”
For answer Armstrong stood up, his hands deep in his pockets, his shoulders square. A minute perhaps he stood so. Once he cleared his throat. He sat down. An instant later he laughed--naturally, in genuine amus.e.m.e.nt.
”I surrender, Elice,” he said; ”foot, horse, and officers. I can succeed in deceiving myself, easily; but when it comes to you--” He dropped his hands hopelessly. ”On the square, though, and between ourselves, do you want me to quit the University and accept this--job? It's a good lead, I realize.”
”I'd rather not say either way,” slowly. ”I repeat that it's useless to disagree, when nothing would be gained.”
”Disagree! We never disagree. We never have in all the time we've known each other.”
”We've never discussed things where disagreement was probable.”
”Maybe that's right. I never thought of it before.” A pause. ”Has that harmony been premeditated on your part?”
”Unconsciously so, yes. It's an instinct with me, I think, to avoid the useless.”
Armstrong stared across the dim light of the porch. Mentally he pinched himself.
”Well, I am dumb,” he commented, ”and you are wonderful. Let's break the rule, though, for once, and thresh this thing out. I want your opinion on this Graham matter, really. Tell me, please.”
”Don't ask me,” repeated the girl. ”You'd remember what I said--and it wouldn't do any good. Let's forget it.”
”Of course I'd remember. I want to remember,” pressed the man. ”You think I ought to accept?”
A moment the girl hesitated; then she looked him fair.
”Yes,” she said simply.
”And why? Tell me exactly why, please? You're not afraid to tell me precisely what you think.”
”No, I'm not afraid; but I think you ought to realize it without my putting it in words.”
Armstrong looked genuine surprise.
”I suppose I ought--probably it's childishly obvious, but--tell me, Elice.”
”To put it selfishly blunt, then, since you insist, I think you ought to for my sake. If an income you can depend upon means nothing in particular to you you might consider what it would mean to me.”
Unconsciously the lounging figure of the man in the chair straightened itself. The drawl left his voice.
”Since we have stumbled upon this subject,” he said quietly, ”let's get to the bottom of it. I think probably it will be better for both of us.