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Wylie, I. A. R. (Ida Alexa Ross), 1885-1959

"The Dark House"

You see, it was
to pay for the time when you are preparing to be a doctor. It means
hundreds of pounds, Robert. But I calculated that if I saved a little
every week--I'd manage it--if I didn't die or lose my work."
"Don't, Christine--please don't! Oh, Christine!"
"If I lost my work--Mr. Percy is very kind. He is an old friend and knows
the position. But he has his business to consider. I'm not quick--my
eyes aren't strong. There are younger, cleverer people. We've got to
look things in the face, Robert. If I lost my work there would be nothing
between us and the workhouse--nothing--nothing--nothing."
He was shivering as if with bitter cold. His teeth chattered in his head.
He caught a ghost-like glimpse of a boy in the glass opposite--a strange,
unfamiliar figure with a white, tear-stained face and haggard eyes and
fair hair all on end.
"Oh, Christine--I'm frightened!"
"You think money must come from somewhere. Something will turn up. That
was what your father used to say. He was so hopeful. It wasn't possible
that it shouldn't turn up. But I was younger and stronger then--I can't
begin again.--I can't--I can't. If you're not good, Robert, I can't go
on."
"I will be good. I won't tell lies. I won't spend money ever again. I
won't love anyone but you. I won't be a doctor; I'll be something
cheap--now."
He had forgotten the photographs. He still held them in one
tight-clenched hand. But she had seen them.


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