“I hope so.”
The trouble with Dr. McClaren was that his bills were ridiculously small.
“He underestimates his own ability,” said Floyd to Julie. “A man must set the price of his life’s work, and as he appraises himself, the world values him.”
“I have a letter from Joseph,” answered Julie.
“So have I; he keeps me well posted on complications abroad; I am sure, if he will only get down to it, he’ll make a first-class financier.”
This was Floyd’s ambition for his son.
She took a letter from the table beside her. It was long, covering many sheets of paper.
“The Gonzalas have been very good to him; he is in much better spirits. It was terrible, that struggle with His Eminence. I would have given in.”
She always thought now of Cabello as “His Eminence,” in glittering robes, sparkling with jewels.
“Yes,” said Floyd. “You always gave in. That was the trouble.” He turned to go.