"I could let you have all you want. It would be such a beautiful thing for me, Joe. Oh, I know how you'd feel; you wouldn't even let me give you that dollar I found in the street last year; but this would be only lending it to you, and you could pay me back sometime—"
"Ariel!" he exclaimed, and, setting his empty cup upon the floor, took her by the shoulders and shook her till the empty plate which had held the toast dropped from her hand and broke into fragments. "You've been reading the Arabian Nights!"
"No, no," she cried, vehemently. "Grandfather would give me anything. He'll give me all the money I ask for!"
"Money!" said Joe. "Which of us is wandering? MONEY? Roger Tabor give you MONEY?"
"Not for a while. A great many things have to be settled first."
"What things?"
"Joe," she asked, earnestly, "do you think it's bad of me not to feel things I OUGHT to feel?"
"No."
"Then I'm glad," she said, and something in the way she spoke made him start with pain, remembering the same words, spoken in the same tone, by another voice, the night before on the veranda. "I'm glad, Joe, because I seemed all wrong to myself. Uncle Jonas died last night, and I haven't been able to get sorry. Perhaps it's because I've been so frightened about you, but I think not, for I wasn't sorry even before Colonel Flitcroft told me about you."
"Jonas Tabor dead!" said Joe. "Why, I saw him on the street yesterday!"