The shadow deepened in his eyes, but he suddenly roused from this momentary abstraction to find that Pearl was still speaking.

“Yes, I love them because they are so beautiful, but I love them, too, because they are valuable.”

“Well, there is no question about your making all the money you wish,” he said, a slight weariness in his tone, “thousands and thousands.  The world will fling it at you.  It will cover you with jewels.”

She smiled, a faint, secretive smile of triumph.  Ah, so he recognized that.  She had made him feel and admit that she was one of the few great dancers.

Then, she, too, sighed.  “If only,” she said, forgetful of him and following out her train of thought aloud, “if only when I get what I want, I wouldn’t always want something else!  Did you ever feel if you could just be free, really free, you wouldn’t want anything else in the world?”

“How could any one be more free than you are?” he laughed down at her.

“I know, I know,” she agreed, still speaking wistfully, “but I’d like to be free of myself; myself is so strange, and there’s so many of me.”  Then the veil of her instinctive reticence fell over her again and she began to talk of her recent attempts to get about on snow-shoes, Jose and Hugh having been her instructors, so far.  Harry immediately offered his services, and she accepted them, agreeing to go out with him the next morning.

And as they talked Jose glanced at them from time to time, a touch of malicious laughter in his odd glancing eyes; there were few things that escaped Jose.

That evening, after Seagreave had gone home, when Jose and Gallito and Mrs. Thomas and Mrs. Nitschkan had sat late over their cards, Gallito had risen after a final game, mended the fire, poured himself a glass of cognac, lighted another cigarette and, stretching himself in an easy-chair, entered into one of those confidential talks which he occasionally permitted himself with his chosen cronies.  The earlier part of the evening Jose and Pearl had danced for a time together, and then Pearl had danced for a time alone and in a manner to please even her father’s critical taste.  Now, in commenting on this, he remarked: 

“You see the change in my daughter.  She is now cheerful, obedient and industrious.  When she came she was none of those things.  She is, you see, a good girl at heart, but her mother had almost ruined her.  If men but had the time they should always bring up the children of the family.  It is only in that way that they can ever be a credit to one.”

Mrs. Thomas, who had been bending over the stove brewing a pot of coffee which she and Mrs. Nitschkan drank at all hours of the day and night, raised herself at the utterance of these revolutionary sentiments and looked at Gallito in grieved and bewildered surprise; but Mrs. Nitschkan, who had been pouring cream into the cup of steaming coffee which Jose had just handed to her, first took a long draught and then remarked with cool impartiality: