The Intrusions of Peggy

by Anthony Hope

'I gave it and Peggy took it. We did it between us.'

'Was it all yours or any of hers?'

'It was all mine. In the end I had that decency about me.' He went on with a touch of eagerness: 'But it wasn't giving the money; any churl must have done that. It's that now—to-day—I rejoice in it. I thank God the money's gone. And when some came back I wouldn't have it. Ah, there was the last tug—it was so easy to take it back! But no, we went out and—wasted it!' He gave a low, delighted laugh. 'By Jove, how we wasted it!' he repeated with a relish.

'Of all people in the world I never thought of you.'

'What I called my life was half-spent in making it impossible that you should.'

'Where did you get the money from?'

The last touch of his old shame, the last remnant of his old secret triumph, showed in his face.

'I had five or six times as much—there in the safe at Danes Inn. It lay there accumulating, accumulating, accumulating. That was my delight.'

'You were rich?'

'I had made a good income for five or six years. You know what I spent. Will you give a name to what was my propensity?' For an instant he was bitter. The mood passed; he laughed again.