He always laughed at this trick of strong expression, caught by the child from a Bohemian father; an anathema to Gabrielle and the Reverend Gordon. Harry rather liked it, for it seemed to him somehow that he was talking to a man when he and Maryska were alone together.
"Why, Gipsy!" he cried, taking both her hands, "you do look blue, upon my word! Where do you want to go to now? Where shall I take you if we have a spree?"
She thought upon it with a quick and serious glance aside.
"To a café!" she said at length. "Let us go and eat bouillabaisse at a café! He always did when the drawing had tired him. Let us melt the old pot, and drink it—that's what he used to say!"
"But, Maryska! If I haven't got any money?"
She laughed at that.
"Oh!" she cried, "I've got lots! Here's a whole bank-note. Cannot we buy bouillabaisse with that, Harry?"
Harry took the bank-note and perceived with astonishment that it was for no less a sum than one hundred pounds.
"Guess Papa Faber gave you this, now, didn't he? Generous old daddy, too. Have you seen him lately, Gipsy?"
She was a little troubled by his question.