“Innocent, Fred?” she faltered.
“Yes, innocent,” he cried. “Wait: you will see. Clairy, look here. Tell me this. Did I ever talk about Lady Teigne’s jewels when I came to see you?”
“I don’t know, dear. Yes, I remember now, I think you did.”
“Hah!” he ejaculated. “I must go now. Good-bye, little woman. I always loved my little sister, always. You know that, don’t you, Clairy?”
“Yes, dear Fred, always.”
“Bad as I was?”
“Oh, Fred, I never thought you bad,” cried Claire piteously. “I only thought it was a pity you did not try to raise yourself, and—”
“Leave the drink alone. Quite right, Clairy. It was the drink. It makes a man stupid and mad. He doesn’t know what he’s about when he has taken too much. Remember that, my dear, it was the drink.”
“Fred, how strangely you are talking.”
“Strangely?” he said, clasping her to his breast, “strangely? Well, I meant to be kind and tender to my poor, suffering little sister. I’ve been a bad lot, but I always loved my little Claire.”