o prove his
unfitness for any of these callings, the fact that he knew nothing
of any of them did not greatly matter. At these rebuffs Dolly was
distinctly pleased. She argued they proved he was intended to pursue his
natural career as an author.

That their friends might know they were poor did not affect her, but she
did not want them to think by his taking up any outside "job" that they
were poor because as a literary genius he was a failure. She believed
in his stories. She wanted every one else to believe in them. Meanwhile,
she assisted him in so far as she could by pawning the contents of five
of the seven trunks, by learning to cook on a "Kitchenette," and to
laundry her handkerchiefs and iron them on the looking-glass.

They faced each other across the breakfast-table. It was only nine
o'clock, but the sun beat into the flat with the breath of a furnace,
and the air was foul and humid.

"I tell you," Carter was saying fiercely, "you look ill. You are ill.
You must go to the sea-shore. You must visit some of your proud, friends
at East Hampton or Newport. Then I'll know you're happy and I won't
worry, and I'll find a job. I don't mind the heat-and I'll write you
love letters"--he was talking very fast and not looking at Dolly--"like
those I used to write you, before----"

Dolly raised her hand. "Listen!" she said. "Suppose I leave you. What
will happen? I'll wake up in a cool, beautiful brass bed, won't I--with
cretonne window-curtains, and salt air blowing them about, and a maid
to bring me coffee. And instead of a bathroom like yours, next to an
elevator shaft and a fire-escape, I'll have one as big as a church,
and the whole blue ocean to swim in. And I'll sit on the rocks in the
sunshine and watch the waves and the yachts--"

"And grow well again!" cried Carter. "But you'll write to me," he added
wistfully, "every day, won't you?"

In her wrath, Dolly rose, and from across the table confronted him.

"And what will I be doing on those rocks?" she cried. "You KNOW what
I'll be doing! I'll be sobbing, and sobbing, and calling out to the
waves: 'Why did he send me away? Why doesn't he want me? Because he
doesn't love me. That's why! He doesn't LOVE me!' And you DON'T!" cried
Dolly. "You DON'T!"

It took him all of three minutes to persuade her she was mistaken.

"Very well, then," sobbed Dolly, "that's settled. And there'll be no
more talk of sending me away!

"There will NOT!" said Champneys hastily