Cassy did not notice. "It appears, too, that I am entitled to some of his wretched money."
"It is unfortunate I did not know that also."
"I believe you did. But I sha'n't take it."
Jones drew a chair. Hatefully he looked her up and down.
"You are quite right. Sixty years ago there was but one millionaire in the country. The plutocrat had not appeared in the street, he had not even appeared in the dictionary. The breed was unknown. To-day there are herds of such creatures. I was reading the statistics recently and they depressed me beyond words. It is always depressing to know how much money other people have. You are quite right not to suffer poor devils to be depressed by you."
Mrs. Yallum! thought Cassy, who said as much; "I don't know what you are talking about."
"You are very intelligent. I am talking small change."
Cassy gave a shrug. "Mr. Dunwoodie said I would have enough to live on. I can do as well as that myself, thank you."
"No doubt," Jones snarled. "I am even sure you could do worse. It is extraordinary how much one can accomplish in refusing a dollar or two that might save another man's life. To hell with everybody! That is the noble attitude. I admire your spirit. A handful of bank-notes are crying at you: 'I'm yours, take me, give me to the wounded, to the starving!' Not a bit of it. The Viscountess of Casa-Evora is too proud. That's superb."
Cassy turned on him. "See here, young man——"