He winced. His lips tightened.
“How much?”
“Oh, a little bunch of milles. Ten or twenty will do. What does it matter to you? You’re rich. You’re making millions. You’re not stingy, are you?”
He felt the time had come for an explanation. “Look here,” he said, “you’re all wrong. You assumed from the start I was a somebody and had something. I’m really a nobody and I have nothing. You might even call me an adventurer. I came here broken in health and practically penniless. Now I am strong and fit again. And I have some money, fifty thousand francs, which I managed to wrench from the Casino. That’s all I’ve got, I swear it. I’m not mean, but I’ve known bitter poverty and don’t want to know it again.”
She was looking at him in sheer amazement. He warmed to his subject, and spoke with a gusto that was almost malicious.
“That money means life to me. It means a home, a chance to make a living by healthy, agreeable work. I’m going to buy a car. Next year if you’re here and you see me standing in line waiting for a job, you can hire me. Now you know me. That’s the sort I am, a penniless adventurer. I should have told you before, but I enjoyed being with you so much that I postponed the confession. Well, that’s over any way. And now what are you going to do?”
For a full minute she was speechless. Then she said breathlessly:
“But you are making millions, you and that old man. Every one knows it. You are partners....”
“No, not partners. I never touch a sou of what he makes.”
“But ... he’s like a father to you. He’ll give you anything you want. A million if you ask. I am sure.”