Читать книгу White Magic. A Novel онлайн

36 страница из 64

“All my life.”

She looked tenderly sympathetic distress. “Doesn’t your not being recognized discourage you?” she said.

“Not a bit,” declared he, with every indication of sincerity. “Everything worth while takes time. Anyhow, I don’t much care. My living is secure. You see, I’m quite rich.”

Her eyes opened wide. “Rich!” she exclaimed. “Really? Why, I thought—” There she halted, blushing.

“Oh, yes. I’ve got forty thousand—not to speak of my land.”

“Forty—thousand—a year! That’s very good.” And her face revealed that her brain was busy and what it was busy about.

He laughed loudly. “Forty thousand a year!” he cried. “No—two thousand a year.”

Her chagrin was pitiful. “Oh!” she exclaimed dismally. “I thought you said you were rich.”

“And I am. Why, when I think of how I used to live on less than two thousand francs a year I feel like a Rothschild.” He tried to keep his face and his tone serious as he added: “What’s the matter? Why do you look so woe-begone?”

“Nothing. Only— You gave me such a shock! For a minute I thought you were—were different.”