‘What are you doing?’ his father asked again.
‘I’ve said good-bye to one or two things to-night,’ said Polson. ‘I’ve got no right to a farthing’s worth of all that. I’ve got no right to anything. It seems I’ve lived on stolen money all my life and gone flaunting about in stolen feathers. Well, I didn’t know it. Perhaps I ought to feel kinder towards you than I do, but I can’t help it.’
‘Why—why——’ Jervase almost babbled. ‘What’s it mean?’
‘It’s one more good-bye. That’s all.’
‘You’re not—you’re not a-going to leave me, Polly? You’re not a-going to throw your father over?’
‘I thought my father was an honest man. I thought I had a right to go into the world amongst gentlemen and hold up my head amongst them, and make a career amongst them. That was a mistake, you see. I’ve been mistaken all along, and now I’ve found it out. Good-bye, father. Goodbye, James.’
‘No, no, Polly. You mustn’t go. I can’t let you go.’
‘Father,’ the young man answered, sternly and sorrowfully, ‘I am going. If I tried to swallow another mouthful in this house it would choke me. If I tried to sleep here another night I might as well lie down on fire. If I can’t eat meat I have a right to, I’ll go without. If I can’t lie down under an honest roof, I can find the lee-side of a hedge.’
‘I’ve been a kind father to you, Polly, my lad; I’ve let you want for nothing.’
‘You’ve let me want for an honest name. That’s all. Good-bye.’