"Why, when he wants money, hang it!"
She drew a deep breath. "Money--money? Has Caspar's example been
nothing to you, then?"
"It hasn't proved to me that I must starve while Mungold lives on
truffles!"
Again her face changed and she stirred uneasily, and then rose to her
feet.
"There is no occasion which can justify an artist's sacrificing his
convictions!" she exclaimed.
Stanwell rose too, facing her with a mounting urgency which sent a
flush to his cheek.
"Can't you conceive such an occasion in my case? The wish, I mean, to
make things easier for Caspar--to help you in any way you might let me?"
Her face reflected his blush, and she stood gazing at him with a
wounded wonder.
"Caspar and I--you imagine we could live on money earned in _that_ way?"
Stanwell made an impatient gesture. "You've got to live on
something--or he has, even if you don't include yourself!"
Her blush deepened miserably, but she held her head high.
"That's just it--that's what I came here to say to you." She stood a
moment gazing away from him at the lake.