“I am talking of her money, and it is no impeachment of its value to say that it is mortal like herself. Still, I am ready to acknowledge
| “‘How pleasant it is to have money, heigho! How pleasant it is to have money!’ |
and as much of it as possible, Elizabeth.”
“We come to no definite results by talking in this way, Roland. When you get to singing snatches of song I may as well be quiet. And yet I am so unhappy about you. O Roland! Roland! my dear, dear brother, what can I do for you?”
She covered her face with her hands, and Roland took them away with gentle force. “Elizabeth, do not cry for me. I am not worth a tear. Darling, I will do anything you want me to do.”
“If I get Robert to give you a desk in the bank?”
“Well, love, anything but that. I really cannot bear the confinement. I should die of consumption; besides, I have a moral weakness, Elizabeth, that I am bound to consider––there are times, dear, when I get awfully mixed and cannot help
| “‘Confounding the difference ’twixt meum and tuum By kindly converting it all into suum.’” |
“O Roland, I really do not know what you are fit for!”