appearance and multiplication of paragraphs. I said not a word to discourage the visions; we talked of how Coralie should make fame and he money; he grew enthusiastic, guttural, and severe on the Steinberg. I ordered more Steinberg, and fished for more enthusiasm. I put my purse at his disposal; he dipped his fingers deep, with an anxious furtive eagerness. The loan was made, or at least pledged, before it flashed across my brain that the money was destined for Wetter—he wanted to pay off Wetter. We were nearing the desired ground.
"My dear M. Struboff," said I, "you must not allow yourself to be embarrassed. Great properties are slow to develop; but I have patience with my investments. Clear yourself of all claims. Money troubles fritter away, a man's brains, and you want yours."
He muttered something about temporary scarcity.
"It would be intolerable that madame should be bothered with such matters," I said.
He gulped down his Steinberg and gave a snort. The sound was eloquent, although not sweet. I filled his glass and handed him a cigar. He drank the wine, but laid the cigar on the table and rested his head on his hand.
"And women like to have money about," I pursued, looking at the veins on his forehead.
"I've squandered money on her," he said. "Good money."
"Yes, yes. One's love seeks every mode of expression. I'm sure she's grateful."
He raised his eyes and looked at me. I was smoking omposedly.
"Were you once in love with my wife?" he asked
