But I've
been a little worried. You didn't take it all, did you, dear?"
"Yes, I did. I spent it at the Circus. And then I gave some to Cosgrave."
He saw the blood rush up wildly into her white face. The next minute she
had laughed--a gay, unfamiliar laugh--and he winced and shivered as though
she had struck him.
"Why, that's so like your father--that's just what your father would have
done. He loved doing kind, generous things--giving money away."
And now he knew for certain who it was who stood behind him in the dark
passage. He could not bear it. He slammed the door to, closing his eyes
tight so that he should not see. He ran to her, pressing himself against
her, stammering passionately.
"I'm not like my father--I'm not--I'm not. I won't be."
She petted him tenderly. She was grave now and sure of herself.
"You mustn't say that, Robert. Your father was a wonderful man, in many
ways. People didn't understand him--only your mother and I. If your
mother had lived it would all have been quite different. He was
unfortunate and often very unhappy. The world thinks so much of money.
But he despised it. It was nothing to him. You're like that too. You
didn't realize, did you? It didn't seem a great deal. It was just a
beginning. But I have had to do without food. I've been hungry
sometimes--I think I ought to tell you this, so that you may
understand--I've looked into shop-windows at lunch-time.
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