"It is very kind of you," he said, "but you would lose your money." He did not see her meaning. The southern night had set in all at once; he could not even see her strenuous eyes.
"How dense you are," she said, softly, and with a little nervous laugh. "Can't you see that I want to lend you the money?"
"To lend it to me!"
"Why not?"
"Five hundred pounds!"
"My dear young man, I'm ashamed to say that I should never feel it. It's a sporting offer merely. Of course I'd charge interest—you'd dedicate all your nice songs to me. Why don't you answer? I don't like to see you in the bush, it isn't at all the place for you; and I do want to send you home to your mother. You might let me, for her sake. Have you lost your tongue?"
Her hand had remained upon the splints and bandages; indeed, she had forgotten that there was a living arm inside them, but now something trivial occurred that made her withdraw it, and also get up from her chair.
"Are you on, or are you not?"
"Oh, how can I thank you? What can I say?"