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Elinor rose, and going to her bag that was still dangling from the chair back where she had flung it in her hurried preparation for dinner, took out a cardcase, and drawing forth three square bits of gray cardboard, handed them to Patricia. "Say that again, young one," she demanded imperatively. "Make it good and plain this time." "Why not to-night?" asked Jen, sharply..
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Conrad
Elinor nodded. "She said I might as well tell you all, for it would be in the papers tomorrow. Her father has failed, and they're dreadfully poor. It's been coming on for a long while, and that was why she wanted the prize so much—not that she excused herself for it, she only said I could see how she came to stoop so low. She was frantic for the money and was so worried that she couldn't think of any subject for herself. She thought I was rich and happy and wouldn't care. She even thought I might not turn in my study at all, when I got sick that night. She's had a terrible time about it, but she was so glad to have the chance to explain." "I have failed," he said. "There is nothing left but the devil-stick." "Do you know," interrupted Patricia, suddenly alert again, "I don't believe I'll ever amount to a row of pins as an artist? I always forget the work and think only of the people and the fun. I wonder if I can't brace up and do something worth while. I'll start in tomorrow—see if I don't." It was useless to ask further questions, as Jen saw that the young man was getting irritated; so, in no very pleasant temper himself, the major went up to his dressing-room. He was of a peace-loving and easy-going nature, fond of quietness, so it annoyed him not a little that all this disturbance should take place on account of a woman. "The sex is at the bottom of everything," said the major, uttering the old truth with conviction..
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