"And you lost—"
"Ten thousand dollars."
She arched her eyebrows slightly. It was a sum that did not impress Rosalind as stupendous, but the tone in which he mentioned it was one of awe.
"You are a more desperate person than I imagined," she said chidingly.
He looked at her, startled; then flushed again.
"You see, it was a year's income—a whole year!"
"Was it? I hadn't heard. How interesting!"
"I don't know whether you are familiar with the circumstances, Miss Chalmers," he went on slowly.
"Not a single one—but I'd like to know awfully. That is, if you don't mind. One is so apt to get false impressions when one does not understand."
"Why—er—yes," he sighed. "You see, I have an income—ten thousand dollars a year. The estate itself is in the hands of a guardian—my uncle."