The "fiddler," still in his fur-lined coat, was
twisting a squash hat in his hands. In his own peculiar style he was
impressive. But why couldn't he look you in the face; or, if he did, why
did he seem about to eat you?
"You knew I was returned to London, Major Winton?"
Then Gyp had been seeing the fellow without letting him know! The
thought was chill and bitter to Winton. He must not give her away,
however, and he simply bowed. He felt that his visitor was afraid of
his frigid courtesy; and he did not mean to help him over that fear.
He could not, of course, realize that this ascendancy would not prevent
Fiorsen from laughing at him behind his back and acting as if he did not
exist. No real contest, in fact, was possible between men moving on such
different planes, neither having the slightest respect for the other's
standards or beliefs.
Fiorsen, who had begun to pace the room, stopped, and said with
agitation:
"Major Winton, your daughter is the most beautiful thing on earth. I
love her desperately. I am a man with a future, though you may not think
it. I have what future I like in my art if only I can marry her. I have
a little money, too--not much; but in my violin there is all the fortune
she can want."
Winton's face expressed nothing but cold contempt. That this fellow
should take him for one who would consider money in connection with his
daughter simply affronted him.
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