"
"But, Mouse dear, all this isn't news to me. Surely you, who've
gipsied with me, aren't going to be so obvious, so banal, as to
blame _me_ because you've cared for me, are you, child?"
"Oh no, no, no! I didn't mean to do that. I just wanted--oh,
gee! I dunno--well, I wanted to have things between us definite."
"I do understand. You're quite right. And now we're just
friends, aren't we?"
"Yes."
"Then good-by. And sometime when I'm back in New York--I'm
going to California in a few days--I think I'll be able to get
back here--I certainly hope so--though of course I'll have to
keep house for friend father for a while, and maybe I'll marry
myself with a local magnate in desperation--but, as I was
saying, dear, when I get back here we'll have a good dinner,
_nicht wahr?_"
"Yes, and--good-by."
She stood at the top of the stairs looking down. He slowly
clumped down the wooden treads, boiling with the amazing
discoveries that he had said good-by to Istra, that he was not
sorry, and that now he could offer to Nelly Croubel everything.
Pages:
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404