"No, not Maud. One you don't know."
"I hoped we could sail tomorrow. Why not take a taxi and go after her now?"
"It may be a long search."
"She's a——?" He did not need to finish his sentence in order to make himself understood.
Susan nodded.
"Oh, let her——"
"I promised," interrupted she.
"Then—of course." Freddie drew from his trousers pocket a huge roll of bills. Susan smiled at this proof that he still retained the universal habit of gamblers, politicians and similar loose characters of large income, precariously derived. He counted off three hundreds and four fifties and held them out to her. "Let me in on it," said he.
Susan took the money without hesitation. She was used to these careless generosities of the men of that class—generosities passing with them and with the unthinking for evidences of goodness of heart, when in fact no generosity has any significance whatever beyond selfish vanity unless it is a sacrifice of necessities—real necessities.
"I don't think I'll need money," said she. "But I may."