“Write to her? No, I won’t write to her.”
“P’raps she wants you to. I should. Why don’t you write to her?”
“I shall before—I shall some day!”
“Before what?”
“Oh, before⸺”
Suzanne once more glimmered into the absurd distance.
“He will send, I suppose?”
“Now—? Yes, I suppose sooner or later it will turn up.”
“If it didn’t what would you do? You think it’s your stepmother who does it? Why don’t you manage her? You are stupid. You must allow me to tell you that.”
Kreisler knew the end was not far off; this might be it. So much the better!