And let me tell you, that takes some sense
of humor. The book is my potato crop. If it fails it
will mean that I must keep on drudging, with a knot or
two taken in my belt. But I'll squeeze a smile out of
the corner of my mouth, somehow. And if it succeeds!
Oh, Ernst, if it succeeds!"
"Then, Kindchen?"
"Then it means that I may have a little thin layer of
jam on my bread and butter. It won't mean money--at
least, I don't think it will. A first book never does.
But it will mean a future. It will mean that I will have
something solid to stand on. It will be a real
beginning--a breathing spell--time in which to accomplish
something really worth while--independence--freedom from
this tread-mill--"
"Stop!" cried Von Gerhard, sharply. Then, as I
stared in surprise--"I do ask your pardon. I was again
rude, nicht wahr? But in me there is a queer vein of
German superstition that disapproves of air castles.
Sich einbilden, we call it."
The lights of the bay pavilion twinkled just ahead.
The green car poked its nose up the path between rows of
empty machines. At last it drew up, panting, before a
vacant space between an imposing, scarlet touring car and
a smart, cream-colored runabout.
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