"Yes, they are all there. I went out and gave cakes to the dogs and sugar to the horses every day, and talked to them, and I think regularly had a cry over them. It was very foolish, but I could not help it. It did all seem so wrong and so pitiful. I could not learn much about you from father. He said that you had only written once to him on business since things were finally settled; but that you had mentioned that you were going to Paris, and he said, too--" and she hesitated for a moment, "that although you had lost Fairclose and all the property, you had enough to live upon in a way--a very poor way--but still enough for that." "Not such a very poor way," he said. "There is no secret about it. I had five thousand pounds that had been settled on my mother, and fortunately that was not affected by the smash, so I have two hundred a year, which is amply sufficient for my wants." "It is enough, of course, to live upon in a way, Cuthbert, but so different from what you were accustomed to." "I don't suppose you spend two hundred a year," he said, with a smile. "Oh, no, but a woman is so different. That is just what I have, and of course I don't spend anything like all of it; but as I said, it is so different with you, who have been accustomed to spend ever so much more." "I don't find myself in any way pinched. I can assure you my lodgings in the Quartier Latin are not what you would call sumptuous, but they are comfortable enough, and they do not stand me in a quarter of what I paid for my chambers in London. I can dine sumptuously on a franc and a half. Another franc covers my breakfast, which is generally _cafe au lait_ and two eggs; another franc suffices for supper. So you see that my necessaries of life, including lodgings and fuel, do not come to anything like half my income, and I can spend the rest in riotous living if I choose." The girl looked at him earnestly. "You are not growing cynical, I hope, Cuthbert?" "I hope not. I am certainly not conscious of it. I don't look cynical, do I?" "No," she said, doubtfully. "I do not see any change in you, but what do you do with yourself?" "I paint," he said. "Really!" "Really and truly, I have become what you wanted me to become, a very earnest person indeed, and some day people may even take to buying my pictures." "I never quite know when you are in earnest, Cuthbert; but if it is true it is very good news. Do you mean that you are really studying?" "I am indeed. I work at the studio of one M. Goude, and if you choose to inquire, you will find he is perhaps the best master in Paris. I am afraid the Prussians are going to interrupt my studies a good deal. This has made me angry and I have enlisted--that is to say, been sworn in as a member of the Chasseurs des Ecoles, which most of the students at Goude's have joined." "What! You are going to fight against the Germans!" she exclaimed, indignantly. "You never can mean it, Cuthbert."