Olivia wrote energetically. "What's he doing?"
"Oh, the kind of thing men do. They seem to have wonderful ways of raising money."
"How do you know he's trying it?"
"I don't know for certain; I've only an idea. I rather gather it by the queer way he comes and goes. The minute a thing is in Peter's hands—"
"Have you such a lot of confidence in him?"
"For this sort of thing—yes. He's terribly able, so they say, financially. For the matter of that, you can see it by the way he's made all that money. Bought mines, or something, and sold them again. Bought 'em for nothing, and sold 'em for thousands and thousands."
"Did I ever tell you that he once asked me to marry him?"
Drusilla wheeled round in her chair and stared, open-mouthed, at her friend's back.
"No!"
"Oh, it was years ago. I dare say he's forgotten it."