“I know I used to drink, but I don’t drink now.”
They were silent for a while, then he began to speak and tell her the story of his life as a remittance man, and he did not spare black in the composition of his picture.
She listened at first interested and amused by the thought of Dick tied by the leg in Sydney, hobbled, so to speak, and made to behave.
Then her amusement gave way to compassion. She saw him wandering in the Domain, by the sea-shore, in the streets, a lonely figure, a man with no interest in life, an exile banned by society.
She thought of all the men she knew and the number of them who were just as wicked and foolish as Dick had ever been, yet who by keeping on the right side of their bank balance retained their social position and the respect of all men.
And thinking of all this the heart in her was moved. A most dangerous condition just now, for Jane, Bessemer steel in her everyday laughing mood, became wax when her compassion was aroused.
“Why didn’t you write and tell me?” said she. “I’d have gone and seen your father. Oh, it was wicked to send you off like that, away from every one. How could a father treat his child so!”
They were silent again for a moment.
“Poor Dick!” said Jane suddenly, and she took his hand in both hers and stroked it. A little shiver went through him.
Then, all at once, she felt an arm around her waist and his breath upon her cheek, and she did not try to take her hand from his or struggle, nor, after the first second of troubled alarm, did she feel the wish to struggle.