“I want you to give me the money to go with.”
For a moment the Colonel was so surprised that he looked at her without answering. As she spoke the color came faintly into her face.
“It—it—won’t be so very much,” she went on hurriedly, “perhaps enough for a year. I thought five thousand dollars would do.”
“Five thousand dollars,” he said, recovering himself, “five thousand dollars? Why of course—”
He paused, looking down on the floor and asking himself where he was to get five thousand dollars.
“I’ll get it for you, only you’ll have to give me a few days.”
She leaned forward with a sudden energy of animation and clasped his hand.
“I knew you’d do it,” she said. “I knew if I came to you for help I’d never be disappointed. I asked father for it, and he!—” she completed the sentence with a shrug.
“He hadn’t it, perhaps,” suggested the Colonel.
“That’s what he said. He said he couldn’t possibly give it to me, that he was in debt now. And look at the way we live! Look at this dress! He knows how I feel. He has only to look at me, but he said he couldn’t give it.”