"But," she said with a sudden smile, "I take no responsibility. I am not
very sure that it will be a success. I can only try to make you
happy--goodness knows if I shall succeed!"
"You have only to be yourself to do that," he answered, with lover-like
promptness and a blindness which is the special privilege of those happy
fools.
She gave a strange little smile.
"But how do I know that our lives will harmonize in the least? I know
nothing of your daily existence; where you live--where you want to
live."
"I should like to live mostly in Russia," he answered honestly.
Her expression did not change. It merely fixed itself as one sees the
face of a watching cat fix itself, when the longed for mouse shows a
whisker.
"Ah!" she said lightly, confident in her own power; "that will arrange
itself later."
"I am glad I am rich," said Paul simply, "because I shall be able to
give you all you want. There are many little things that add to a
woman's comfort; I shall find them out and see that you have them."
"Are you so very rich, Paul?" she asked, with an innocent wonder. "But I
don't think it matters; do you? I do not think that riches have much to
do with happiness."
"No," he answered. He was not a person with many theories upon life or
happiness or such matters--which, by the way, are in no way affected by
theories.
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