It has come to that. A tiresome bank has failed with all our
sixpences locked up in it. Isn't it stupid?"
"Is ALL your money gone?"
"I think so."
"Good God!"
"Dear mamma knows as little about business as she does about me.
Until this morning she has always had a rooted belief in her bank
and her daughter. If I bolt with you, her last cherished illusion
will be destroyed."
"Let me help you," he said eagerly.
"How?" and she looked at him again with that cold, hard scrutiny.
"Lend us money, do you mean?"
He fell into the trap.
"Yes," he said. "I'd do that if you'd let me."
She gave just the suggestion of a sneer and turned deliberately
away.
He felt the force of the unspoken reproof:
"I beg your pardon," he said humbly.
She went on as if she had not heard the offensive suggestion: "So
you see we're both, in a way, at the crossroads."
He seized her hand fiercely: "Let me take you away out of it all!"
he cried.
She withdrew her hand slowly.
"No," she said, "not just now. I'm not in a bolting mood to-day."
He moved away. She watched him. Then she called him to her.
Something in the man attracted this strange nature. She could not
analyse or define the attraction. But the impelling force was there.
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