"But, Weston—not now, not to-night. Where can you go? What can you do?"
"I can do well enough without you, as he can…. Why don't you tell me that I have been living on your money? You told him so often enough."
"Oh … you're cruel," Alison said.
"What does it matter? You'll not be hurt. You are too hard." She hurried to the door.
"Ah, don't go like this," Alison cried. "Weston, let's part kindly. I
could not know. I have done nothing against you." Mrs. Weston laughed.
"Stay a moment at least. I want to know. Harry's father—is Colonel
Boyce—?"
"Yes, there it is. That is all you want—to pry into all the story. It is nothing to you. He is nothing to you now."
The door closed behind her.
CHAPTER XX
RETURN OF CAPTAIN McBEAN
Harry was not gone far. In Long Acre stood a tavern calling itself 'The Hand of Pork.' This had always tempted Harry, whose tastes were of the people. While still a domesticated husband, he had tried its ale with satisfaction. When he left Alison it was to 'The Hand of Pork' that he brought his small, battered box.