He looked at her oddly, removing the cigar from his mouth and waving aside the smoke rings for his better observation of the intent, inscrutable face, which in its earnest concentration appeared wholly unaware of his scrutiny and the criticism in his eyes. He was busy taking stock of her, summing up from this unexpected admission to the secrecy of her innermost thoughts, the nature of this surprisingly new feminine type who imagined herself symbolic of all womanhood. Like himself, she was thorough egoist, hugging to her embittered, discontented soul the sense of her own importance and the world's callous neglect. All the submissiveness, the gentle deferential manner which had won for her Mrs Carruthers' patronage, and the confidence of Pamela, fell from her like a soft garment which has concealed effectively the deformities it cloaked. The passionate, hungry, dissatisfied soul of the girl was bared to the man's gaze. He recognised her true self for the first time, and smiled to himself at the revelation. He took pleasure in the knowledge that he was a wealthy man. "If a rich man offered, I suppose you would marry him?" he said, brutally outspoken. She did not resent the grossness of the question, neither did she give him a direct answer. She plucked the head from a wild flower growing in the grass, and pulled it to pieces abstractedly while she talked. "Wealth, when it is a personal possession, brings one absolute power," she said slowly. "When one benefits through another's wealth one can only enjoy what it gives. If I had money of my own, I should be glad; but I shall never have it. If I were a man I would get it--somehow." He laughed. "That kind of reckless ambition leads men occasionally into awkward scrapes," he said. "Finance with a disregard for the methods of acquirement is folly. Your feminine logic disqualifies you for the profession." She looked at him a little contemptuously. "A man always considers a woman a fool in business matters," she said. "You've a good deal as a sex to learn yet," he returned, unmoved. "Ah, well!" She threw away the petals of the flower and stood up. "It's all idle talk, anyway. I suppose if I had even a moderate fortune I'd do as other women occasionally do, invest it in something absolutely safe." She glanced at his recumbent figure, and at the coat lying on the ground. "If we don't turn back, we shall be late; and Mrs Arnott will be displeased with me... I am sorry my holiday is drawing to an end." "So am I," he said. He picked up his coat, and vainly endeavoured to shake out the creases. "It tells a tale," he said. Blanche held it for him while he got into it. She straightened the collar and pressed it into shape. He swung round suddenly and caught her round the waist and kissed her. "One day," he said, still holding her with his arm, "you shall have a right royal holiday, and do as much spending as your avarice dictates. I'd enjoy being your banker."