both benefit by it. We would be as willing to help two as one. You would
both be better off."

The young man raised his head and stared at Van Bibber reprovingly.

"You know better than that," he said. "You know what I'd look like. Of
course she could make money as a dancer, I've known that for some time,
but she hasn't thought of it yet, and she'd never have thought of it
herself. But the question isn't me or what I want. It's Annie. Is she
going to be happier or not, that's the question. And I'm telling you
that she couldn't be any happier than she is now. I know that, too.
We're just as contented as two folks ever was. We've been saving for
three months, and buying furniture from the instalment people, and next
month we were going to move into a flat on Seventh Avenue, quite handy
to the hotel. If she goes onto the stage could she be any happier? And
if you're honest in saying you're thinking of the two of us--I ask you
where would I come in? I'll be pulling this wire rope and she'll be all
over the country, and her friends won't be my friends and her ways won't
be my ways. She'll get out of reach of me in a week, and I won't be in
it. I'm not the sort to go loafing round while my wife supports me,
carrying her satchel for her. And there's nothing I can do but just
this. She'd come back here some day and live in the front floor suite,
and I'd pull her up and down in this elevator. That's what will happen.
Here's what you two gentlemen are doing." The young man leaned forward
eagerly. "You're offering a change to two people that are as well off
now as they ever hope to be, and they're contented. We don't know
nothin' better. Now, are you dead sure that you're giving us something
better than what we've got? You can't make me any happier than I am, and
as far as Annie knows, up to now, she couldn't be better fixed, and no
one could care for her more.