"Why—it had a lot to do with interviewing Italians."
Theresa stared at him, and he grew uncomfortable and fidgeted in the chair.
"I think you should sell that Packard today," she said.
"Then where would I be?" he wailed.
"Probably eight or nine hundred dollars ahead. Do you like being flat broke?"
"No, but I'd never get a job if I didn't look prosperous."
"You haven't gotten one looking prosperous," she said, cruelly. "On the other hand a great many fellows without Packards have been known to connect with jobs."
"Yes, but, Theresa, I'd have to explain to Helen."
"Tell her you got tired of the car. After all, it isn't her business."
"Oh," Hubert groaned. "You don't understand."
"No, I'm pretty thick."
"I didn't mean that. Theresa, for the love of God, if you can spare a hundred dollars let me have it. I'll pay you back. Honestly I will. I'll give you a hundred percent interest on the two hundred before the winter months. You'll see, I'll connect with something."
"Don't talk like that, Hubert. I'm not lending you money as a business venture, you know. Come on, drive me down to the bank and I'll let you have it. But I don't give a God-damn what happens to you after this. Don't you dare ask me for any more money while you have that car."
"All right, Theresa. Thank you." There was defeat
