"Five thousand dollars," he said, reflectively. "Your father certainly was a queer mixture of surprises and contradictions. Now, who would have suspected him of a piece of sentiment like this? Pure sentiment. He must have felt that I'd not be able to save him, and he knew my bill wouldn't be one-tenth this sum."
"He liked you, and admired you," said Jane.
"He was very generous where he liked and admired."
Charlton put the money back in the envelope, put the envelope in his pocket. "I'll give the money to the Children's Hospital," said he. "About six months ago I completed the sum I had fixed on as necessary to my independence; so, I've no further use for money—except to use it up as it comes in."
"You may marry some day," suggested Jane.
"Not a woman who wishes to be left richer than independent," replied he. "As for the children, they'll be brought up to earn their own independence. I'll leave only incubators and keepsakes when I die. But no estate. I'm not that foolish and inconsiderate."
"What a queer idea!" exclaimed Jane.
"On the contrary, it's simplest common sense. The idea of giving people something they haven't earned—that's the queer idea."
"You are SO like Victor Dorn!"
"That reminds me!" exclaimed Charlton. "It was very negligent of me to forget. The day your father died I dropped in on Victor and told him—him and Selma Gordon—about it. And both asked me to take you their sympathy. They said a great deal about your love for your father, and how sad it was to lose him. They were really distressed."