“Mrs. Bristow.”
“I do not deem it expedient to answer that query, for I am perfectly satisfied that she has no desire to see you. Oh, Charles Peace, let me beg and entreat of you to alter your course of life. What will be your end if you don’t—think of that? Have you no thought of the future?”
“Have you ever had any thought about me?” cried Peace.
“Certainly I have. I sent a remittance to you to be handed to you at the expiration of your term of imprisonment.”
“Did you send that?”
“Yes, and would most gladly, most cheerfully, assist you if you would become a respectable member of the community.”
“Oh, gammon and all, I’ve tried the respectable dodge, but didn’t find it pay.”
“I’ll say no more. Go your way. You will never be wise or discreet, I suppose. Are you in want of money at the present time?” she said, drawing out her purse, and opening it. “Because if you are——”
“If I am I should not accept anything from you,” he cried, with some asperity. “Put back your money and keep it to serve a better purpose. I can be as proud as you when I choose.”
“Enough, sir, we will say no more upon the subject, then.”