“The mischief is that it’s got into the papers,” he said. “But for that, I don’t see that it matters much.”
“Not matter much?” gasped Gerald.
“I suppose you don’t care whether it’s true or not?”
“It’s life or death to me,” answered Gerald.
“Bosh! She won’t steal any more shoes now she’s a rich woman.”
“You speak, sir, as if you thought——”
“Haven’t any opinion on the subject, and it wouldn’t be of any importance if I had. The question is shortly this: Supposing it to be true, would you marry her?”
Gerald flung himself into a chair, and bit his finger nail.
“Eight years is a long while ago; and poverty’s a hard thing; and she’s a pretty girl.”
“It’s an absurd hypothesis,” said Gerald. “But a thief’s a thief.”