He hesitated and stopped.
"But what?" She caught sight of his face. She saw how it was working. "Cyril, is there any good news to counteract the bad? Have you had a stroke of luck?"
Yet he hesitated, already half regretting that he had said anything at all. But, having gone so far, he went farther.
"I don't want you to reckon on it just at present, but I think it possible that, very shortly, I may find myself in possession of a larger sum of money than either of us has dreamed of."
"Cyril! Do you mean it?"
Her tone of incredulity spurred him on.
"Should I be likely to say such a thing if I did not mean it? I mean exactly what I said. To be quite accurate, it is possible, nay, probable, that before very long I shall be the possessor of a quarter of a million of money. I hope that will be enough for you. It will for me."
"A quarter of a million! Two hundred and fifty thousand pounds, Cyril!"
"It sounds a nice little sum, doesn't it? I hope that it will feel as nice when it's mine!"
"But, Cyril, I don't understand. Is it a new speculation you are entering on?"