The Intrusions of Peggy

by Anthony Hope

'It's not empty. The money's all there.'

'And you want me to take care of it again?' His tone spoke approval.

'I don't know. I may want it, and I mayn't.'

'You're sure to want it,' he declared in smiling despair.

'I mean, I don't know whether I want it now—all in a lump—or not.'

Her bright carelessness of spirit had evidently deserted her to-day; she was full of something. Airey gulped down a cup of tea, lit his pipe, and waited. He had been engrossed in calculations when she arrived—calculations he loved—and had been forced to conceal some impatience at the interruption. He forgot that now.

'There's something on your mind, Peggy,' he said at last. 'Come, out with it!'

'She's broken—broken, Airey. She can't bear to think of it all. She can't bear to think of herself. She seems to have no life left, no will.'

'You mean Mrs. Trevalla?'