"It is a speculation--of a kind." His tone was ironical, though she did not seem to be conscious of the fact. "A peculiar kind. Its peculiarity consists in this, that, though I may not be able to lay my hands on the entire quarter of a million, I can on an appreciable portion of it whenever I choose."
"What is the nature of the speculation? Is it on the Stock Exchange?"
"That, at present, is a secret. It is not often that I have kept a secret from you; you will have to forgive me, Daisy, if I keep one now."
Something peculiar in his tone caught her ear. She glanced at him sharply.
"You are really in earnest, Cyril? You do mean that there is a reasonable prospect of your position being improved at last?"
"There is not only a reasonable prospect, there is a practical certainty."
"In spite of what you have lost in Eries?"
"In spite of everything." A ring of passion came into his voice. "Daisy, don't ask me any more questions now. Trust me! I tell you that in any case a fortune, or something very like one, is within my grasp."
He stopped, and she was silent. They went and stood where they had been standing the night before--looking towards the Worthing lights. Each seemed to be wrapped in thought. Then she said softly, in her voice a trembling--
"Cyril, I am so glad."