Free The Reverberator by Henry James Page B

ideas?”
    “Of course I do, Mr. Flack; I think they’re splendid,” said Francie, who did not in the least understand them.
    “Well, then, why won’t you work with me? Your affection, your brightness, your faith would be everything to me.”
    “I’m very sorry—but I can’t—I can’t,” the girl declared.
    “You could if you would, quick enough.”
    “Well, then, I won’t!” And as soon as these words were spoken, as if to mitigate something of their asperity, Francie paused a moment and said: “You must remember that I never said I would—nor anything like it. I thought you just wanted me to speak to my father.”
    “Of course I supposed you would do that.”
    “I mean about your paper.”
    “About my paper?”
    “So as he could give you the money—to do what you want.”
    “Lord, you’re too sweet!” George Flack exclaimed, staring. “Do you suppose I would ever touch a cent of your father’s money?”—a speech not so hypocritical as it may sound, inasmuch as the young man, who had his own refinements, had never been guilty, and proposed to himself never to be, of the plainness of twitching the purse-strings of his potential father-in-law with his own hand. He had talked to Mr. Dosson by the hour about the interviewing business, but he had never dreamed that this amiable man would give him money as an interesting straggler. The only character in which he could expect it would be that of Francie’s husband, and then it would come to Francie—not to him. This reasoning did not diminish his desire to assume such a character, and his love of his profession and his appreciation of the girl at his side ached together in his breast with the same disappointment. She saw that her words had touched him like a lash; they made him blush red for a moment. This caused her own colour to rise—she could scarcely have said why—and she hurried along again. He kept close to her; he argued with her; he besought her to think it over, assured her he was the best fellow in the world. To this she replied that if he didn’t leave her alone she would cry—and how would he like that, to bring her back in such a state to the others? He said, “Damn the others!” but that did not help his case, and at last he broke out: “Will you just tell me this, then—is it because you’ve promised Miss Delia?” Francie answered that she had not promised Miss Deliaanything, and her companion went on: “Of course I know what she has got in her head: she wants to get you into the high set—the
grand monde
, as they call it here; but I didn’t suppose you’d let her fix your life for you. You were very different before
he
turned up.”
    “She never fixed anything for me. I haven’t got any life and I don’t want to have,” said Francie. “And I don’t know who you are talking about, either!”
    “The man without a country. He’ll pass you in—that’s what your sister wants.”
    “You oughtn’t to abuse him, because it was you that presented him,” the girl rejoined.
    “I never presented him! I’d like to kick him.”
    “We should never have seen him if it hadn’t been for you.”
    “That’s a fact, but it doesn’t make me love him any the better. He’s the poorest kind there is.”
    “I don’t care anything about his kind.”
    “That’s a pity, if you’re going to marry him. How could I know that when I took you up there?”
    “Good-bye, Mr. Flack,” said Francie, trying to gain ground from him.
    This attempt was of course vain, and after a moment he resumed: “Will you keep me as a friend?”
    “Why, Mr. Flack, of course I will!” cried Francie.
    “All right,” he replied; and they presently rejoined their companions.

V
    GASTON PROBERT MADE HIS PLAN, IMPARTING IT to no one but his friend Waterlow, whose help indeed he needed to carry it out. These confidences cost him something, for the clever young painter found his predicament amusing and made no scruple of showing it. Probert was too