So, if you are going to give a
subscription for John Grier you must do as he would do."
Carnac smiled, put the paper on his desk, and took the pen.
"Make it measure the hate John Grier has to the Belloc firm," she said
ironically.
Carnac chuckled and wrote. "Will that do?" He handed her the paper.
"One hundred and fifty dollars--oh, quite, quite good!" she said.
"But it's only a half hatred after all. I'd have made it a whole one."
"You'd have expected John Grier to give two hundred, eh? But that would
have been too plain. It looks all right now, and it must go at that."
She smiled. "Well, it'll go at that. You're a good business man. I see
you've given up your painting and sculping to do this! It will please
your father, but are you satisfied?"
"Satisfied--of course, I'm not; and you know it. I'm not a money-
grabber. I'm an artist if I'm anything, and I'm not doing this
permanently. I'm only helping my father while he's in a hole."
The girl suddenly grew serious. "You mean you're not going to stick to
the business, and take Fabian's place in it? He's been for a week with
Belloc and he's never coming back here. You have the brains for it; and
you could make your father happy and inherit his fortune--all of it.
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