"Of course," he said, finally, after a long pause, "you can please
yourself. If you like to try and find a situation as clerk or
secretary or shoe-black, and marry this girl on the proceeds, do so.
But if you do, you will get no help from me in future. Don't come to
me then for funds to bring out your MSS. If you choose to disgrace
your family and disappoint my expectations, consider yourself
entirely cut off from me, that's all."
There was another stretch of silence, and then--
"Well, which is it to be, Victor? Lucia or Genius?"
"I really hardly know," I answered, lightly. "I want them both. I'll
think it over."
And with Nous, who had sprung to his feet as I moved, closely
following me, I crossed the dining-room and went out, upstairs to my
own writing and sitting-room. Here I flung myself into an arm-chair
and let my hand hang over the side and rest on the collie's neck.
And as I curled absently the locks of fur round my fingers, the
thought came--When would my hand play as familiarly with those
short, glistening curls on Lucia's forehead? Of course, as far as
that went, we were engaged, and I might have put our relations on a
far more intimate and familiar footing than they were now. I might
have kissed her, twisted and untwisted that great cable of hair, put
my arm round her waist, and so on and so on.
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