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I will pay you your thousand pounds." Rosek, still smiling, answered: "Gustav, don't be a fool! With a violin to your shoulder, you are a man. Without you are a child. Lie quiet, my friend, and think of Mr. Wagge. But you had better come and talk it over with me. Good-bye for the moment. Calm yourself." And, flipping the ash off his cigarette on to the tray by Fiorsen's elbow, he nodded and went.
So many of these young people seem to think life's all play. You must see a lot of that in your profession, sir." "Robert!" A shiver ran down Fiorsen's spine. "Ye-es?" "The name was not DAWson!" There followed a long moment.
When she had sent this off, and a telegram to her father at Newmarket, she read Fiorsen's letter once more, and was more than ever certain that it was Rosek's wording. And, suddenly, she thought of Daphne Wing, whom her father had seen coming out of Rosek's house. Through her there might be a way of getting news.
Women such as Gyp cannot actively dislike those who admire them greatly. She consulted him about Fiorsen's debts. There were hundreds of pounds owing, it seemed, and, in addition, much to Rosek himself. The thought of these debts weighed unbearably on her. Why did he, HOW did he get into debt like this? What became of the money he earned? His fees, this summer, were good enough.
Perhaps his debts are all part of that who knows? Please!" Winton looked at her. How like when she said that "Please!" How like her figure sunk back in the old chair, and the face lifted in shadow! A sort of exultation came to him. He had got her back had got her back! Fiorsen's bedroom was as the maid would remark "a proper pigsty" until he was out of it and it could be renovated each day.
Next morning, on the same bench, she was reading breathlessly the scene between Gemma and Sanin at the window, when she heard Fiorsen's voice, behind her, say: "Miss Winton!" He, too, held a glass of the waters in one hand, and his hat in the other. "I have just made your father's acquaintance. May I sit down a minute?" Gyp drew to one side on the bench, and he sat down. "What are you reading?"
Though his self-control was as great as Fiorsen's was small, she felt he had not given up his pursuit of her, and would take very good care that Daphne Wing was afforded every chance of being with her husband. But pride never let her allude to the girl. Besides, what good to speak of her?
Gyp took up the baby, whose black eyes fixed themselves on her mother in a momentary contentment; but, at the first movement, she began again her fretful plaint. Betty went on: "She's been like that ever since this morning. Mr. Fiorsen's been in more than once, ma'am, and the fact is, baby don't like it. He stares at her so. But this morning I thought well I thought: 'You're her father.
He had with difficulty been made to understand that the baby was Fiorsen's property, so that, if the fellow claimed it, legally they would be unable to resist. The point opened the old wound, forced him to remember that his own daughter had once belonged to another father.
But, in general, she lived elated, intoxicated by music and his adoration, withal remorseful that she was making her father sad. She was but little at Mildenham, and he, in his unhappiness, was there nearly all the time, riding extra hard, and leaving Gyp with his sister. Aunt Rosamund, though under the spell of Fiorsen's music, had agreed with her brother that Fiorsen was "impossible."
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