“The question is—if anything can be too ‘costly,’ when it’s a matter of human dignity and welfare.”
A shudder ran along Cousin Ronald’s spine. The moment had come. Very well; he was ready. He admitted, in his own heart, that nothing could be too costly where Mme. Van Der Dokjen’s dignity was concerned. He was silent for a moment; then he raised his distinguished head.
“Mr. Ordway,” he said, “name your price, sir!”
Ordway stared at him with a faint frown.
“I didn’t mean that,” he explained. What he had meant was that he would be glad to do this job for nothing. But he feared to affront Mr. Phillips. “It’s—I’d enjoy doing it,” he said earnestly.
Cousin Ronald could not endure the suspense any longer.
“Mr. Ordway,” he said, “let us be direct, sir. That is ever my way. I have long been prepared for this eventuality. I am ready, sir, to consider the purchase of this letter. Be good enough to name your price.”
IV
Like many another man before him, Cousin Ronald was ill-served by his own impatience. Ordway had come, intending to hand the letter over as a gift of no importance, but being asked to name his price put ideas into his head. He reflected. He reflected so long that Cousin Ronald grew still more impatient.
“I have been practicing the strictest economy,” he announced. “I may say that I have endured something not short of actual discomfort, sir, in order that I might be in a position to meet any—er—reasonable terms—”