"So you have thrown that college of yours out of your mind, haven't you?" she said in a dry, non-committal way
I felt the color mounting to my face. "Well, not entirely," I answered
"Not entirely?"
"I mean—Well, anyhow, what do they do at college? They read books. Can't I read them at home? One can find time for everything." Returning to my new project, I said: "It's a great chance, Gussie. It would be an awful thing if I had to let it slip out of my hand."
That what I wanted was her dower (with herself as an unavoidable appendage) went without saying. It was implied, as a matter of course
"How much would your great designer want you to invest?" she asked, with an air of one guided by mere curiosity, and with a touch of irony to boot
"A couple of thousand dollars might do, I suppose."
"A couple of thousand!" she said, lukewarmly. "Tell your great designer he is riding too high a horse."
"Still, in order to start a decent business—" I said, throwing a covert glance at her
"Cloak-factories have been started with a good deal less," she snapped back