“One would not like to think of her being in want, and so exposed to temptation,” Nina remarked reflectively. “Because, of course, she is pretty; she was, anyhow.”
I smiled at that—though I fancy that she meant to make me angry.
“You must excuse me, Nina, but I don’t believe it.”
“Oh, all right!” She walked across to her desk, unlocked a drawer, took out a letter, and brought it back with her. She gave it to me. “Read that, then, Julius.”
It was from Arsenio. I read it hastily, for it disgusted me. It sent to Madame la Baronne (he wrote in French) the grateful thanks of his wife and himself for her most generous kindness, once again renewed. In a short time he hoped to be independent; might he for one week more trespass on her munificence? It was not for himself; it was simply to enable his wife to make a decent appearance, until an improvement in her health, now, alas, very indifferent, made it possible for her to seek some suitable employment——So far I read, and handed the letter back to Nina; she would not take it.
“Keep it,” she said. “I’ve several more; he says the same thing every week—oh, that about the ‘decent appearance’ is new; it’s been rent and food before. Otherwise it’s the same as usual.”
I looked at the date of the letter; it had been written three days before.
“When did you last send him money?”
“The day before yesterday, if you want to know.”
Yes, I had dined on it. And Arsenio had sent half of it to Lucinda; so he had told me, at least. And the rest he was keeping, in order to show Godfrey Frost the working of his system.