He did, however, make many attempts to find a job for Richard, and went to see the originator of the phrase that described Richard’s wife so well—“a gallant little lady”—who was connected with some highly-remunerative business.
The old man shook his head.
“I’m on the point of retiring, Sir Charles. Times are bad, though I’ve made my pile, but it was done by hard work at one job all my life. I’ll see if there’s anything for your—stepson, is it?”
“He is no relation of mine,” said Sir Charles very distinctly. “He married my wife’s only daughter by her first husband. He is now obliged to live upon her—very small—fortune.”
“I’ve heard something of that. Poor little lady—she’s doing wonders, I hear. Well, well, I’ll see if they’ve anything to offer the lad, but we don’t want men without experience these days, you know. But I’d like to do something, for the sake of that gallant little lady.”
III
“Richard dear, I would like to ask mummie and Sir Charles to dinner—supper, I mean—one night. I’ve got a little cash in hand, so I shouldn’t feel too extravagant. You know I got rather more than I expected, for the sale of that old bracelet of mine.”
Richard did know, because Rita had told him this already, quite gleefully, although admitting that the bracelet had been a legacy from a specially beloved grandmother, and that it cost her a pang to let it go.
“I loathe your selling your jewellery. It makes me feel such a cad for having got you into this mess, though God knows I never foresaw anything like this. Rita, must you do these things?”
She looked at him with a face of piteous, childlike surprise. “Oh, aren’t you at all pleased that we’ve got an extra pound or two, Richard? I’m sure you’ve no idea what a difference it makes.”