An electric shock seemed to make Frau von Lindeberg catch her breath. 'Oh really,' she then said evenly. 'Did he inherit his wealth?' 'Made it, madam. He is an ironmonger.' Another electric shock made Frau von Lindeberg catch her breath again. Then she again said, 'Oh really.' There was a pause. 'England,' she said after a moment, 'is different from Germany.' 'I believe it is,' admitted Papa. 'And ironmongers there may be different from ironmongers here.' 'It is at least conceivable.' 'Tell me, what status has an ironmonger in England?' 'What status?' 'In society.' 'Ah, that I know not. I went over there seven and twenty years ago for the purpose of marrying, and I met no ironmongers. Not consciously, that is.' 'Would they--would they be above the set in which you then found yourself, or would they--' she tried to conceal a shiver--'be below it.' 'I know not. I know nothing of society either there or here. But I do know that money, there as here, is very mighty. It is, I should say, merely a question of having enough.' 'And has he enough?' 'The man, madam, is I believe perilously near becoming that miserable and isolated creature a millionaire. God help the unfortunate Joey.' 'But why? Why should God help him? Why is he unfortunate? Does not he get any share?' 'Any share? He gets it all. He is the only child. Now I put it to you, what chance is there for an unhappy youth with no brains-' 'Oh, I must really go. I have taken up an unwarrantable amount of your time. Thank you so very much, dear Herr Schmidt--no, no, do not disturb yourself I beg--your daughter will show me the way--' 'But,' cried Papa, vainly trying to detain this determinedly retreating figure, 'about his character, his morals--we have not yet touched--' 'Ah yes--so kind--I will not keep you now. Another time perhaps--' And Frau von Lindeberg got herself out of the room and out of the house. Scarcely did she say good-by to me, in so great and sudden a fever was she to be gone; but she did turn on the doorstep and give me a curiously intense look. It began at my eyes, travelled upward to my hair, down across my face, and from there over my whole body to my toes. It was a very odd look. It was the most burningly critical look that has ever shrivelled my flesh. Now what do you think of this enormous long letter? It has made me quite cheerful just writing it, and I was not very cheerful when I began. I hope the reading of it will do you as much good. Good-by. Write and tell me you are happy. Yours sincerely, ROSE-MARIE SCHMIDT. Do, do try to be happy! LXIII Galgenberg, Dec. 22d.