She accepted his thanks smilingly,
and asked him to drop around often. "Mind, you don't forget our
number," she said.
He was on the point of making her understand once for all that he
would not forget the number, that he would never forget Gashwiler's
address, that he had been coming to this studio too often to forget
its location. But someone engaged her at the window, so he was
obliged to go on without enlightening the woman. She seemed to be
curiously dense.
CHAPTER VII
"NOTHING TO-DAY, DEAR!"
The savings had been opportunely replenished. In two days he had
accumulated a sum for which, back in Simsbury, he would have had to
toil a week. Yet there was to be said in favour of the Simsbury
position that it steadily endured. Each week brought its fifteen
dollars, pittance though it might be, while the art of the silver
screen was capricious in its rewards, not to say jumpy. Never, for
weeks at a stretch, had Gashwiler said with a tired smile, "Nothing
to-day--sorry!" He might have been a grouch and given to
unreasonable nagging, but with him there was always a very definite
something to-day which he would specify, in short words if the
occasion seemed to demand.
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