I see you have a
pretty girl here now--and from what I can read in her face, she is not
a saint. Rub it in to her--rub it into her well--persuade her to be a
bigger sinner still. Now I can't wait to say more, I must go."
"I asked you," Lilian Rosenberg said, as Kelson resumed his seat, "if
the dream was a warning?"
"No," Kelson said, "I shouldn't take it as such. Despite the rather
peculiar form it took, I am inclined to think it isn't a dream with
any real significance--but merely a chance dream--a dream compounded
of sayings and actions of the past that have come back to you all
higgledy-piggledy, as they so often do in dreams. You learned a lot of
poetry I suppose when you were at school?"
"Yes, but none like this."
"No, I didn't suppose so, but the mere fact that your mind was at one
time used to verses--acquainted with metre and rhythm, would account
for the form adopted by your dream. I assure you it was purely
chance--and that there is no significance in it! You are on the look
out for work, is it not so?"
"I am," Lilian Rosenberg said. "Can you tell me where to go to get
it?"
"I am just thinking," Kelson replied, "I believe my partner, Mr.
Hamar, wants a secretary. I can't, of course, say whether you would
suit him. Do you type?"
"I can type and do shorthand," Lilian Rosenberg replied eagerly, "and
I can correspond in German and French."
"And the salary? Would two hundred a year do?"
"Yes," after a slight pause, "I could make it do.
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