Florence winced at the crude directness. “You are too kind,” she said, perfunctorily.
“As for me,” he went on, “I've got my opinion of these European gentlemen that marry for money.”
“We all have, in this country, I hope,” said Edna; “except, possibly, the few silly women that become the victims.”
“I should be perfectly willing,” pursued Bagley, magnanimously, watching for the effect on Florence, “to marry a girl without a cent.”
“And no doubt perfectly able to afford it,” remarked Edna, serenely.
He missed the point, and saw a compliment instead.
“Well, you're not so far out of the way there, if I do say it myself,” he replied, with a stony smile. “I've had my share of good luck. Since the tide turned in my affairs, some years ago, I've been a steady winner. Somehow or other, nothing seems able to fail that I go into. It's really been monotonous. The only money I've lost was some twenty thousand dollars that a trusted agent absconded with.”
“You're mistaken,” Florence broke in, with a note of indignation that made Bagley stare. “He did not abscond. He has disappeared, and your money may be gone for the present. But there was no crime on his part.”
“Why, do you know anything about it?” asked Bagley, in a voice subdued by sheer wonder.
“I know that Murray Davenport disappeared, and what the newspapers said about your money; that is all.”