She shook her head.
“I have just seen his lawyers,” she said, “they have been to the bank and there is not a hundred pounds to his credit, and that amount will be absorbed by the cheques he has drawn. He drew a very, very large sum, including my money, from the bank two days ago. You know,” she went on, “I think that Sir John contemplated leaving for America? He had already given me a hint, asking me how long it would take me to pack my belongings, and I fancy that had something to do with the telegram he received——”
“Announcing Cartwright’s escape,” nodded Timothy.
“He was so kind and so gentle,” said the girl, her eyes filling with tears, “that to me he was more like a father. Oh, it is awful, awful!”
“But you?” asked the agitated Timothy. “What are you going to do? Good heavens! It is dreadful!”
“I shall have to work,” said the girl practically and with a little smile. “I do not think that will kill me. Hundreds of thousands of girls have to work for their living, Timothy, and I shall have to work for mine.”
Timothy drew a long breath.
“Not if I can help it, you won’t,” he said. “I am sure I shall make a lot of money. I can feel it in my bones. If a man takes a job——”
“You mustn’t talk like that,” she said, pressing his arm, “and anyway, how could I let you help me or keep me? That sort of thing isn’t done—not by nice girls.”
She laughed, but became sober again.