I said to
mine last Thursday, 'But I must be clean, Mrs. Binkley!'
and the creature replied, 'I don't see at all, Mr. Ticks'
--she has an odious habit of calling me Mr. Ticks--'why
you shouldn't go dirty occasional.' She seemed to think
she had made a joke!"
"They live to be paid," Elfrida said, with hard philosophy,
and then she questioned him delicately about his play.
Could she induce him to show it to her, some day? Her
opinion was worth nothing really--oh no, absolutely
nothing--but it would be a pleasure if Golightly were
_sure_ he didn't mind.
Golightly found a difficulty in selecting phrases repressive
enough to be artistic, in which to tell her that he would
be delighted.
When Mr. Ticke came in that evening he found upon his
dressing-table a thick square envelope addressed to him
in Elfrida's suggestive hand. With his fingers and thumb
he immediately detected a round hardness in one corner,
and he took some pains to open the letter so that nothing
should fall out. He postponed the pleasure of reading it
until he had carefully extracted the two ten-shilling
pieces, divested them of their bits of tissue-paper, and
put them in his waistcoat pocket. Then he held the letter
nearer to the candle and read: "I have thought about this
for a whole hour.
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