"Do I want to be rich? Well, of course. One can't have things or do things unless one has money. And if I don't get money, no one will for me; or, at least, I'd rather they wouldn't. Of course, you have got Mr. Carter to work for you, Laura; but I am sure, when you put it into cold words, you'd like him to make money, too. You don't want to live all your days on the Coast here, the pair of you. You look forward to going home, and having a house and a garden, and a motor car, and a man to drive it. And you'd like to have good servants and nice frocks. Yes, especially nice frocks."
"Like yours. Yes, I should like a nice frock like that one, Kate, if you won't mind my copying it."
"What, this rag? My dear, sweet child, with your eyes, and your figure, and the complexion you'd grow in England, you'd pay to dress far more than ever I should. Mr. Carter will work hard and earn a big income, just for the satisfaction of seeing you decently clad."
There was a minute's silence, and then, "Why do you dislike my engagement so much, Kate?"
"Me dislike it? What rubbish. I think it's a most excellent thing for you, if only Mr. Carter goes on as he has begun."
"Then I'll word it differently. Why do you dislike George so much?"
"Whatever gave you that idea? Mr. Carter, considering the short time he has been on the Coast, has done most excellently for the firm, and—well—l'état c'est moi. I know you condemn me for being abominably commercial, but what nearer way do you think there can be to my heart than through my pocket?"
"Your heart!" Laura repeated, and stared large-eyed at the yellow river that swirled past the steamer's rusty flanks. An alligator, that looked very much like a half submerged log, drifted down with the tide, and a bird that rode upon him dug vigorously between the rows of his plates with his beak. She watched them till they passed away down the stream and were lost in the glare of the sunshine. "I wonder," she said in a half-whisper, "if your heart wants something which it will break my heart for you to get?"
Miss Kate O'Neill got up and gave a very healthy laugh. "Don't mutter," she said, "and don't be ridiculous. To begin with, I'm not of the marrying sort; to go on with, your taste (as typified in Mr. Carter) and mine don't agree one little bit; and to wind up with, Laura dear, don't let's pose like a pair of school-girls. I don't know whether there's a slight natural antipathy between two red-haired people——"
"Your hair's not red in the least, Kate. It's a very dark auburn."