“Perhaps I can arrange it,” he said at
last. “In what company is he insured?”
“I’ll pay it back to you—when he dies!” cried the woman, and Ross gave her a quick glance. It seemed heartless, but he saw it was not. The woman was tried beyond her endurance; she, with her two children, faced a future that was absolutely devoid of hope; she was sick, wretched, despairing, and the husband she had striven so hard to keep with her was already beyond recall. She spoke of his approaching death merely as something certain, that could not be prevented, and that force of circumstances compelled her to consider. She had to think for herself and children, plan for herself and children, even at this fearful time, for there was no one to do it for her, no one to relieve her of any part of the burden. The problem of the larder and the problem of burial would confront her simultaneously; she had to face these cold, hard, brutal facts, in spite of the grief and sorrow of the moment.
All this Ross saw and appreciated, and he gave his attention to various possible ways of raising the necessary money.
“Perhaps I can arrange it,” he said at last. “In what company is he insured?”
It proved to be his own company. Instantly, his talk with Murray flashed through his mind. “You are paid to protect your company, so far as lies in your power,” Murray had said. Absolute loyalty to its interests was imperative. Would it be honorable for him to enter into any arrangement with this woman that would cost his company money? Had he any right to do more than the company would do itself? What would be thought of an employee in any other line of business who advanced money that was to be used to the financial disadvantage of his employer, however proper it might be in the case of some one else?
“I can do nothing,” he announced shortly.
“Oh, Owen!” cried his wife reproachfully.
“It is impossible!” he insisted. “If it were a proper thing to do, Murray would do it for her himself.”
“Mr. Murray doesn’t understand the situation,” urged his wife.