He endeavoured to explain.
"I don't envy you," she said drily, when he had finished. "You hardly realise what lies before you, I think. There are people here who are glad to get fifty pfennigs an hour, for piano lessons. Think of plodding up and down stairs, all day long, for fifty pfennigs an hour!"
He was silent.
"While in England, with a little tact and patience, you would soon have more pupils than you could take at five shillings."
"Tact and patience mean push and a thick skin. But don't worry! I shall get on all right. And if I don't—life's short, you know."
"But you are just at: the beginning of it—and ridiculously young at that! Good Heavens, Maurice!" she burst out, unable to contain herself. "Can't you see that after you've been at home again for a little while, things that have seemed so important here will have shrunk into their right places? You'll be glad to have done with them then, when you are in orderly circumstances again."
"I'm afraid not," answered the young man. "I'm not a good forgetter."
"A good forgetter!" repeated Madeleine, and laughed sarcastically. She was going on to say more, but, just at this moment, a clock outside struck ten, and Maurice sprang to his feet.
"So late already? I'd no idea. I must be off."
She stood by, and watched him look for his hat.