"No, Dick," she said, "you are better at your fortune-hunting."
"It is not for myself," I said too hurriedly; for Isabella had always the power to make me utter hasty words, involving me in some quarrel in which I invariably fared badly.
"Who knows?"
"You think that if the fortune fell into my hands, the temptation would be too strong for a poor man like myself?" I inquired.
"Poor by choice!" The words were hardly audible, for Isabella was busying her fingers with some books that lay on the table between us. It may have been the effect of the lamp shade, but I thought her colour heightened when I glanced at her face.
"It is hard to believe that you are honestly seeking a fortune, which, when found, will enable another man to marry Lucille," she said significantly, without looking at me. And I suppose she knew that which was in my heart.
"Some day," I retorted, "you will have to apologise for having said that!"
"Then others will need to do the same! Lucille herself does not believe in you."
"Yes," I answered, "others will have to do the same, and thank you for it."
"Lucille will not," answered Isabella, with a note of triumph in her voice, "for she had reason to distrust you in Paris."