"
Her face had a hardness that he did not know. He perceived dimly that
she was different from the Gyp of this hour yesterday--the last time
when, in possession of his senses, he had seen or spoken to her.
The novelty of her revolt stirred him in strange ways, wounded his
self-conceit, inspired a curious fear, and yet excited his senses. He
came up to her, said softly:
"Money! Curse money! Kiss me!" With a certain amazement at the sheer
distaste in her face, he heard her say:
"It's childish to curse money. I will spend all the income I have; but I
will not spend more, and I will not ask Dad."
He flung himself down in a chair.
"Ho! Ho! Virtue!"
"No--pride."
He said gloomily:
"So you don't believe in me. You don't believe I can earn as much as I
want--more than you have--any time? You never have believed in me."
"I think you earn now as much as you are ever likely to earn."
"That is what you think! I don't want money--your money! I can live on
nothing, any time. I have done it--often."
"Hssh!"
He looked round and saw the maid in the doorway.
"Please, sir, the driver says can he have his fare, or do you want him
again? Twelve shillings."
Fiorsen stared at her a moment in the way that--as the maid often
said--made you feel like a silly.
"No. Pay him."
The girl glanced at Gyp, answered: "Yes, sir," and went out.
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