The valet put a chair forward for Peregrine, and went away. Peregrine sat down, looking rather uneasily at the papers the man had fetched for the Earl. He had not the least difficulty in recognizing them, and blurted out: “Those are my I O Us, are they not?”
“Yes,” said the Earl. “Those are your I O Us. Shall we settle before we go any further?”
Peregrine fixed his eyes anxiously on that calm profile, and moistened his lips. “Why—why, the fact of the matter is—I don’t think I can,” he confessed. “I’m not perfectly certain how much I lost last night, but—”
“Oh, not much above four thousand, I fancy,” said the Earl.
“Not much above—Oh! Well—well, that is not such a vast sum after all, is it?” said Peregrine valiantly.
“That,” said the Earl, taking a slender knife from the open drawer, and beginning to pare his nails with it, “depends very largely on the size of your fortune.”
“Yes,” agreed Peregrine. “Very true. I—I have a considerable fortune, haven’t I?”
“At the moment,” replied Worth, “you have what I should rather call an independence.”
“You mean I have what you allow me,” said Peregrine in a dissatisfied voice.
“I am glad to find that you realize that,” said Worth. “I was beginning to be afraid that you did not.”