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K by Mary Roberts Rinehart
page 18 of 401 (04%)
"I think," said Sidney, "that it is quite time some one took a little care
of you. If you will give Katie, our maid, twenty-five cents a week, she'll
do your washing and not tear your things to ribbons. And I'll mend them."

Sheer stupefaction was K. Le Moyne's. After a moment:--

"You're really rather wonderful, Miss Page. Here am I, lodged, fed,
washed, ironed, and mended for seven dollars and seventy-five cents a
week!"

"I hope," said Sidney severely, "that you'll put what you save in the
bank."

He was still somewhat dazed when he went up the narrow staircase to his
swept and garnished room. Never, in all of a life that had been active,
--until recently,--had he been so conscious of friendliness and kindly
interest. He expanded under it. Some of the tired lines left his face.
Under the gas chandelier, he straightened and threw out his arms. Then he
reached down into his coat pocket and drew out a wide-awake and suspicious
Reginald.

"Good-night, Reggie!" he said. "Good-night, old top!" He hardly recognized
his own voice. It was quite cheerful, although the little room was hot,
and although, when he stood, he had a perilous feeling that the ceiling was
close above. He deposited Reginald carefully on the floor in front of the
bureau, and the squirrel, after eyeing him, retreated to its nest.

It was late when K. Le Moyne retired to bed. Wrapped in a paper and
securely tied for the morning's disposal, was considerable masculine
underclothing, ragged and buttonless. Not for worlds would he have had
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