Simmy glowered to the best of his ability. "Have you never asked her to make this sacrifice? Have you never given her a ray of hope on which—"
"Yes,—I will be honest with you,—I asked her if she could give it up."
"There you are!" said Simmy triumphantly. "I was pretty sure you had said something—"
"My God, Simmy, I—I don't know what to do," groaned Thorpe, throwing himself into a chair and staring miserably into the eyes of his friend.
"There is just one thing you are not to do," said the other gently. "You are not to let her do this thing unless you are prepared to meet her half-way. If she does her half, you must do yours. I am looking out for her interests now, old chap, and I mean to see that she gets fair play. You have no right to let her make this sacrifice unless you are ready to do your part."
"Then say to her for me that she must keep the money, every penny of it."
Simmy was staggered. "But she—she doesn't want it," he muttered, lamely. His face brightened. "I say, old boy, why let the measly money stand in the way? Take her and the money too. Don't be so darned finicky about—"
"Come, come, old fellow," protested Thorpe, eyeing him coldly.
"All right," said Simmy resignedly. "I'll say no more along that line. But I'm going to make you give her a square deal. This money is hers. She bargained for it, and it belongs to her. She sha'n't throw it away if I can help it. I came here to ask you to use your influence, to help me and to help her. You say that she is to keep the money. That means—there's no other chance for her?"
"She knows how I feel about it," said Thorpe doggedly.