"Claire," I murmured, half to myself.
"And yours?" she asked.
"Jasper—Jasper Trenoweth."
"Then good-bye, Mr. Jasper Trenoweth. Goodbye, and once more I thank you."
She was gone; and standing stupid and alone I watched her graceful figure fade into the shadow and take with it the light and joy of my life.
"Jasper," said Tom, as I lounged into our wretched garret, "have you ever known what it is to suffer from the responsibility of wealth? I do not mean a few paltry sovereigns; but do you know what it is to live with, say, three thousand four hundred and sixty-five pounds thirteen and sixpence on your conscience?"
"No," I said; "I cannot say that I have. But why that extraordinary sum?"
"Because that is the sum which has been hanging all day around me as a mill-stone. Because that is the exact amount which at present makes me fear to look my fellow-man in the face."
I simply stared.
"Jasper, you are singularly dense, or much success has turned your brain. Say, Jasper, that success has not turned your brain."