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I know you don't belong here as
I do. Is it necessity has driven you to live here or only--curiosity?"
"Well--er--perhaps a little of both," he admitted.
"Then you're not obliged to sell peanuts for a living?"
"'Obliged' is scarcely the word, perhaps; let us call it a peanut
penchant, a hobby, a--"
"You are not quite so--poverty-stricken as you pretend?" Her voice was
very soft and gentle, but she kept her head averted, also her foot was
tapping nervously in its worn shoe.
"Oh, as to money," he answered, "I have enough for my simple needs, but
in every other sense I am a miserable pauper. You see, there are some
things no money can buy, and they are generally the best things of
life."
"And so," said she, interrupting him gently, "you come here to
Mulligan's, you deceive every one into thinking you are very poor, you
make a pretence of selling peanuts and push a barrow through the
streets--why?"
"First, because pushing a barrow is--er--very healthy exercise."
"Yes, Mr. Geoffrey?" she said in the same soft voice.


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