but perhaps he could get the idea.

He got it perfectly. "Good," he said. "I'll give you a job. I'm a
newspaper editor."

"Oh," she exclaimed, "you're not Mr. Munsey, are you, or Mr. Reid, or
Mr. Ochs?"

Her knowledge of newspaper owners seemed to come to a sudden end.

"No," he answered, smiling, "nor even Mr. Hearst. I did not say I
owned a newspaper. I edit it. I need some one just like you for my
book page, only you'd have to come to New York and work hard, and
there wouldn't be very much salary. Can you work?"

"Anyone can."

"Well, will you?"

"Indeed I will." (It was a vow.) "And now I must go. I have to drive
myself home in an open car, and the tourists do stare at one so--in
fancy dress."

"Yes, but when am I to see you again? I leave Newport to-night."

"Telephone me--2079--and we'll arrange to do something this
afternoon."

"And whom shall I ask for?"