She tested the limits to see how far 79 she could go, often running away for the day, causing him to fret and pace. She was obliged, as she explained continually to every one who cared to listen, to be so very particular. Seven hundred forty-two dollars and eighty-one cents, the sum total of her money in the world that she hid in a filigreed cigar box shelved behind her schoolbooks. “Is that a challenge?” She shrugged her shoulders, all ablaze with jewels. She was sore and overstrung, and it was intolerable to her that he should stand within three yards of her unsuspectingly, with an incalculably vast power over her happiness. The music throbbed into the warnings that preceded the king’s irruption. And he liked her. Your mother, for what it’s worth to you—for there’s nothing for you here, by God!—was the woman I chose for Nicholas.
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