“He wouldn’t hear of it—it’s the truth. He meant her for you, I think, and the worst threats I could use never shook him from his refusal to countenance us.”
“Brave old man!”
“Renny—help me!”
“For Zyp’s sake,” I said, sternly—“yes. Were it not for her appeal, I tell you plainly you might perish for me.”
He looked so base kneeling there in his craven degradation that I could not forbear the stroke.
“My father provides the means,” I said. “I went to London to-day to realize it. Here it is, and make the most of it.”
He took it from me with trembling hands.
“Ten pounds,” he said, blankly. “No more?”
“Isn’t it enough?”
“Enough to get away with, not enough to find a living on across the water.”