"I don't know. If I am, it can make little difference in your plans. But
as there is method in my madness, please to answer my question. How much
would I sell for in Constantinople?"
"You are mad; that's certain! How do I know--where beauties sell for
from five hundred to many thousand zechins. But you wouldn't sell for
much; you're too small and too thin."
"Beauty sells by the weight, does it? Well, uncle, I see that you
have been accustomed to the mart, for you know how to cheapen the
merchandise! Save yourself the trouble, uncle! I shall not live long,
and therefore I shall not have the conscience to ask a high price for
myself!"
"Mad! Mad as a March hare! As sure as shooting she is!" said the
commodore in dismay, staring at her until his great, fat eyes seemed
bursting from their sockets.
"Not so mad as you think, uncle, either. I have come to make a bargain
with you."
"What the foul fiend do you mean now? Do you want me to send you to
Constantinople, pray?"
Jacquelina laughed, something like her old silvery laugh, as she
answered:
"No, uncle; though if it were not for Mimmy, I really should prefer it
to marrying Grim!"
"What do you mean, then? Speak!"
"This, then, uncle: By what I have heard, and what I have seen, and what
I have surmised, I am already as deep in your secrets respecting Grim as
you are yourself.
Pages:
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111