“I really——”
“Yes, yes. When they gave me that money you sent, I cried. I could not cry in prison, but I cried then. It was the first time any one had ever been kind to me.”
George was embarrassed. He had an uneasy feeling that the sentiment was trite; but, then, many of the saddest things are the tritest.
“It is good of you,” he said, stumbling in his words, “to remember it, in face of all I have done against you.”
“You pitied me then.”
“With all my heart.”
“How did I do it? How did I? I wish I had starved; and seen my father starve first!”
George wondered whether it was food that the late Mr. Gale so urgently needed.
“But I did it. I was a thief; and once a thief, always a thief.” And Neaera smiled a sad smile.