He had been tremulous enough, but at that his whole body began to shake violently.
“What!” he quavered.
“I say, take better care of it next time,” she said, dropping again into her monotone. “I didn't have such an easy time gettin' it back from them as you might think. I've got rather a sore wrist, in fact.”
She paused at an inarticulate sound from him.
“Oh, that's soon mended,” she laughed drearily. “The truth is, it's been a good thing for me—your turning up. They're gettin' in too deep water for me, Helene and her friends, and I've broken with the lot, or they've broken with me, whichever it is. We couldn't hang together after the fightin' we've done to-day. I had to do a lot of threatenin' and things. Welch was ugly, so I had to be ugly too. Never mind”—she checked an uncertain effort of his to speak—“I saw what you were like, soon as we sat down at the table last night—how new you were and all that. It needed only a glance to see that Helene had made a mistake about you. She'd got a notion you were a millionaire like the little Cooley, but I knew better from your talk. She's clever, but she's French, and she can't get it out of her head that you could be an American and not a millionaire. Of course, they all knew better when you brought out your express checks and talked like somebody in one of the old-time story-books about 'debts of honor.' Even Helene understood then that the express checks were all you had.” She laughed. “I didn't have any trouble gettin' the note back!”
She paused again for a moment, then resumed: “There isn't much use our goin' over it all, but I want you to know one thing. Your little friend Cooley made it rather clear that he accused Helene and me of signalin'. Well, I didn't. Perhaps that's the reason you didn't lose as much as he did; I can't say. And one thing more: all this isn't goin' to do you any harm. I'm not very keen about philosophy and religion and that, but I believe if you're let in for a lot of trouble, and it only half kills you, you can get some good of it.”
“Do you think,” he stammered—“do you think I'm worth saving?”
She smiled faintly and said:
“You've probably got a sweetheart in the States somewhere—a nice girl, a pretty young thing who goes to church and thinks you're a great man, perhaps? Is it so?”
“I am not worthy,” he began, choked suddenly, then finished—“to breathe the same air!”