"You don't--look happy," he said, scrutinizing her face.
She was silent.
"You've got very thin. How did you manage that in such a little
while?"
"We've muddled things rather," she said with an ashamed sort of smile.
"On the days when I was hungry there wasn't anything to eat, and then
when there were things I wasn't hungry."
The Prince looked puzzled. "Didn't that old scamp--I mean didn't the
excellent Fritzing bring enough money?"
"He thought he did, but it wasn't enough."
"Is it all gone?"
"We're in debt."
Again he put his hand up to his moustache. "Well I'll see to all that,
of course," he said gravely. "And when that has been set right you're
sure you'll like staying on here?"
She summoned all her courage, and looked at him for an instant
straight in the face. "No," she said.
"No?"
"No."
There was another silence. He was standing on the hearthrug, she on
the other side of the table; but the room was so small that by putting
out his hand he could have touched her. A queer expression was in his
eyes as he looked at her, an expression entirely at variance with his
calm and good-natured talk, the exceedingly anxious expression of a
man who knows his whole happiness is quivering in the balance.
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