He was thinking that if he sat much longer with this strange girl, he was a lost man.
And then again he thought--what did it matter?
If the best he had to expect was exile on a pittance, a consulship at Genoa, a governorship at Guadeloupe, where would he find a more beautiful, a wittier, a gayer companion?
And for her birth--a fico! His great-grandfather had made money in stays; and the money was gone! No doubt there would be gibing at White's, and shrugging at Almack's; but a fico, too, for that--it would not hurt him at Guadeloupe, and little at Genoa.

And then on a sudden the fortune of which she had talked came into his head, and he smiled.

It might be a thousand; or two, three, four, at most five thousand.

A fortune! He smiled and looked at her.
He found her gazing steadily at him, her chin on her hand.

Being caught, she reddened and looked, away.