Eugénie waited—interrogatively.
'Do you know why I have never said a word to the young man about money?'
'Because you forgot it,' said Eugénie, smiling.
'Not in the least,' said Lord Findon, flushing like a school-boy found out; 'I wanted my little sensation at the end.'
'My very epicurean papa!' said Eugénie, caressing him. 'I see! Young man in a garret—starving—au désespoir. Enter Providence, alias my papa—with fame in one hand and gold in the other. Ah, que tu es comédien, mon père. A la bonne heure!—I now order the carriage!'
She moved toward the bell, but paused suddenly:—
'I forgot—Arthur was to come before six.'
A slight silence fell between the father and daughter.
Lord Findon cleared his throat, took up the evening paper and laid it down again.
'Eugénie!'