"Oh!" she said. "See here,—those people."
"I—beg pardon," he hesitated. "I don't quite understand."
"Oh, yes!" she answered. "Those desperately poor wretches, you know, with fever, and leaks in their house, and all sorts of disagreeable things the matter with them. Give them this, won't you?"
"This" was a pretty silk purse, through whose meshes he saw the gleam of gold coin.
"That?" he said. "You don't mean—isn't there a good deal—I beg pardon—but really"—
"Well, if they are as poor as you say they are, it won't be too much," she replied. "I don't suppose they'll object to it: do you?"
She extended it to him as if she rather wished to get it out of her hands.
"You'd better take it," she said. "I shall spend it on something I don't need, if you don't. I'm always spending money on things I don't care for afterward."
He was filled with remorse, remembering that he had thought her apathetic.
"I—I really thought you were not interested at all," he burst forth. "Pray forgive me. This is generous indeed."