'And I shan't smoke in your father's.'
'No—but you'll tell him. You're so outspoken.'
'Well, I won't tell him—unless he asks me.'
She looked sad. 'He won't ask you—he'll never get as far.'
He smiled confidently. 'You're not very encouraging, dear; what's the matter with me?'
'Everything. You're an artist, with all sorts of queer notions. And you're not so'—she blushed and hesitated—'not so rich——'
He pressed her fingers. 'Yes, I am; I'm the richest man here.'
A little delighted laugh broke from her lips, though they went on: 'But you told me your profits are small—marble is so dear.'
'So is celibacy. I shall economize dreadfully by marrying.'
She pouted; his flippancy seemed inadequate to the situation, and he seemed scarcely to realize that she was an heiress. But he continued to laugh away her fears. She was so beautiful and he was so strong—what could stand between them? Certainly not the Palestinian patriarch with whose inmost psychology he had, fortunately, become in such cordial sympathy.