"You have none, Don!" said she gaspingly at last. "He's gone. Isn't that enough? He's dead—yes—call him dead—for he's gone."
He pushed back roughly and looked at her straight.
"Did he really leave any money for my education?"
She looked at him, her throat fluttering. "I wish I could lie," said she. "I do wish I could lie to you. I have almost forgot how. I have been trying so long to live on the square—I don't believe, Don, I know how to do any different. I've been trying to live so that—so that——"
"So what, mother?"
"So I could be worthy of you, Don! That's been about all my life."
"I have no father?"
She could not reply.
"Then was what—what that man said—was that the truth?"
After what seemed to both of them an age of agony she looked up.