"Get what? he demanded, harshly. Joe Delapere! Joe Delapere! Joe Delapere—that lover of old filled his brain like a raging fire.
"You know what I mean, Digby Trotter—what is it that you mean? Where did you get that ten dollars you had in your pocket today?"
"Oh, heaven!" gasped Digby, almost falling over. Then he burst into rapturous laughter, and, right there on the sidewalk, embraced her vigorously. Not all the riches in the world could have purchased the one moment of relief.
"What ten?" he cried. "Was that the ten! Oh, you dear, dear little Kate—did you do it? I thought I had lost it on the street. Oh, this is rich!" and he laughed heartier than ever.
"Stop!" she cried, her face flaming. "Where did you get it? Why did you tell me that you had no money? Have you been doing this all along—all these bitter years?"
He sobered up in an instant, for he saw the situation as she had seen it.
"Why, Kate, I—now, listen a minute! You probably won't believe me, but I swear to you I found that bill—"
"Found it!" she sneered. "That's very likely, isn't it?"
"I knew you'd say that—but I found it, just the same," he went on patiently. "Joe Delapere dropped it as he was getting into a carriage—yes, he did, now—and he drove off before I could pick it up and return it to him. I kept the money, intending to give it back to him. That's true, dear—so help me God. Don't you believe me?" He was very, very much in earnest, but she was woman enough to question further.
"Why didn't you tell me of this before?"