“It would have been better if he had married Yanna.”
“Do not name the girl. I wish I had never seen her. And now, her brother wanting to marry you! It is too absurd!”
“I—do—not—know—about—that. You say millions!”
“Millions! That is what your father told me, and he saw the vouchers for them. People like the Van Hoosens, with all that money! and we on the verge of bankruptcy!”
“Most of the Van Hoosens are rich. Look at Miss Alida. Father says no one can keep an acre of land for her. Where is Antony’s property?”
“It is in San Francisco, chiefly. My dear, he owns half an hotel, and has nothing to do but sit still in New York, or Paris, or anywhere, and get the results sent to him. And he has property in mines, and cattle, and land, and lots of real estate, all down the Pacific coast. The man is vulgarly rich.”
“Antony is not vulgar, mamma. One ought to give even the devil his due. I have often noticed him in a room, and he wears a dress suit as well as any one. Besides, you know, he really does belong to a very good old family.”
“Well, he is going to Paris, London, Vienna, St. Petersburg, Rome, and I know not where else; so he 164 will doubtless acquire some foreign polish. He is an old friend of the California grand dame who queens it over the American colony in Paris, so he is sure to be a great favorite at the French court. Oh, it takes Europeans to appreciate California millionaires.”
Rose was silent for a long time, and Mrs. Filmer took out her accounts, and laid a file of bills at her side, and then began to add up her check book, and to look very grave and hopeless over it.
“I do not wonder your father talks of Woodsome,” she said, “and I am sure we have had very few entertainments, and have been as economical as possible; yet I do believe my bank account is overdrawn. Can you remember the amount of your last check, Rose?”