“No, dear, you think of the degradation I should not be ashamed. We have made a false step, Harry, but if we must go on, let me do what I can to help you. Let me go.”
“But the beggarly disgrace. You don’t know what you are going to undertake.”
She looked at him with her frank, clear eyes.
“I am going to help you. There can be no disgrace in disposing of these trinkets for you to escape.”
“Ah! at last!” cried Harry, leaving the window to hurry to the door, regardless of the look of dislike which came into his sister’s face.
“Is that Mr Pradelle?” she said shrinkingly.
“Yes, at last. No, Louy, I’m bad enough, but I’m not going to send you to the pawnbroker’s while I stop hiding here, and it’s all right now.”
“Ah, Harry! Day, Miss Louy,” said Pradelle, entering, very fashionably dressed, and with a rose in his buttonhole. “Nice weather, isn’t it?”
“Look here, Vic,” cried Harry, catching him by the arm. “How much did you get?”
“Get?”