Part 12 (2/2)
Leaning her elbows upon the table, she puffed at her rank cigarette with all the gusto of an inveterate smoker, and watched their puzzled, thoughtful faces.
”Would that sum suffice until--?” Berard asked mysteriously, giving her a keen glance, and not completing the sentence.
Although her face was naturally pallid, it was easy to discern that the agitation of the last few moments had rendered it even more pale than usual, and her hand was twitching impatiently.
”Yes,” she answered abruptly.
”Couldn't you make s.h.i.+ft with five hundred?” he suggested hesitatingly.
”No,” she said decisively; ”it would be absolutely useless. I must have a thousand to settle my present debts; then I can go on for six, perhaps twelve months, longer.”
”And after that?” inquired Pierre.
She arched her eyebrows, and, giving her shoulders a tiny shrug, replied--
”Well--I suppose I shall have the misfortune to marry some day or another.”
All three smiled grimly.
”How are matters progressing in that direction?” Victor asked, with a curious expression.
”As favourably as can be expected,” replied Valerie in an indifferent tone. ”If a woman is _chic_ and decorous at the same time, and manages to get in with a good set, she need not go far for suitors.”
”Have you seen the Sky Pilot?” inquired Victor, with a thoughtful frown.
”Yes, I met Hubert Holt a few days ago at Eastbourne. He asked after you.”
”Shall I find him at the usual place?”
”Yes; but it would not be safe to go there.”
”Then I'll write. I must see him to-morrow.”
”Why?”
”You want _le pognon_?” he asked snappishly.
”I do.”
”Then, if we are to get it, he must give us his aid,” he said ominously.
”Ah!” she exclaimed, evidently comprehending his meaning. ”But you are not very hospitable,” she added. ”Have you got anything to drink?”
”Not a drop.”
”_Malheureux_! you've fallen on evil times, my dears,” she said, laughing uneasily.
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