"Oh!" and Carmen looked up with the most innocent, open-eyed expression,
"we lived on our income."

"Naturally. We all try to do that." The tone in Mavick's voice showed
that he gave it up.

"But, of course," and Carmen was lively again, "it's much nicer to have a
big income that's certain than a small one that is uncertain."

"It would seem so."

"Ah, deary me, it's such a world! Don't you think, dear, that we have
had enough domestic notoriety for one year?"

"Quite. It would do for several."

"And we will put it off a year?"

"Arrange as you like." And Mavick stretched up his arms, half yawned,
and took up another cigar.

"It will be such a relief to McDonald. She insisted it was too soon."
And Carmen whirled out of her chair, went behind her husband, lifted with
her delicate fingers a lock of grayish hair on his forehead, deposited
the lightest kiss there--"Nobody in the world knows how good you are
except me," and was gone.

And the rich man, who had gained everything he wanted in life except
happiness, lighted his cigar and sought refuge in a tale of modern life,