"Eh?"
"If you want to get those few thousands, Vance, you have nothing to put
up for them except your last shreds of property. That's why I say you'll
have to mortgage your future for money from now on."
"But--how does it all come about?"
"I've warned you. I've been warning you for twenty-five years, Vance."
Once again he attempted to turn her. He always had the impression that if
he became serious, deadly serious for ten consecutive minutes with his
sister, he would be ruined. He kept on with his semi-jovial tone.
"There are two arts, Elizabeth. One is making money and the other is
spending it. You've mastered one and I've mastered the other. Which
balances things, don't you think?"
She did not melt; he waved down to the farm land.
"Watch that wave of wind, Elizabeth."
A gust struck the scattering of aspens, and turned up the silver of the
dark green leaves. The breeze rolled across the trees in a long, rippling
flash of light. But Elizabeth did not look down. Her glance was fixed on
the changeless snow of Mount Discovery's summit.
"As long as you have something to spend, spending is a very important
art, Vance.
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