Monty's words were ringing back in his ears. After all, pleasures could be bought—but happiness!
“And you,” he said, “you too think that these things you have mentioned are the things most to be desired in life?”
A certain restraint crept into her manner.
“Yes,” she answered simply.
“I have been told,” he said, “that you have given up these things to live your life differently. That you choose to be a worker. You have rich relations—you could be rich yourself!”
She looked him steadily in the face.
“You are wrong,” she said, “I have no money. I have not chosen a profession willingly—only because I am poor!”
“Ah!”
The monosyllable was mysterious to her. But for the wild improbability of the thing she would have wondered whether indeed he knew her secret. She brushed the idea away. It was impossible.
“At least,” he said, “you belong to these people.”