“Several thousands, I have no doubt. Large debts, no occupation—”
“Don’t you count the army?” he interrupted.
“Certainly not,” was the firm answer. “I mean an occupation by which you can earn a living. No occupation, idle habits, expensive tastes—”
“No, Vick!” His tone became one of honest indignation. “No, you can’t charge me with that, you know. I may be idle, but you can’t charge me with extravagance.”
“What do you pay for your cigars?” the merciless inquisitor demanded.
“A shilling. I get them at a little shop in Jermyn Street that nobody else knows of, and they are worth double the money.”
“Gerald!”
“No, really, Vick, you have no right to talk to me like that. If there’s one thing that I do pride myself on, it is that I am economical.”
“What is the use of being economical on nothing?” She turned and looked him full in the face. “I will be serious with you, Gerald. If you had any means at all, any real income or prospect of it, I would throw over all the millionaires in Christendom to-morrow, but as it is—!” A despairing gesture completed the sentence.
“Why can’t you wait for me, then?” exclaimed the desperate captain. “Give me a chance, and I will go out and raid the Transvaal, or do something desperate.”