Netherby leaned forward, chin in hand, and gazed at Julia.
“Julia,” he said, in a low whisper, “look how these people face poverty and neglect—just because they have each other to work for. Why cannot we, you and I, start life together—now—to-morrow?”
“But, Netherby——”
He took her slender fingers in his hand:
“My dear girl,” said he—“I am now known a little. The money will be coming in soon. What more would you wait for?... Must I bring you the moon?”
“But supposing I drag you down, Netherby——”
“My dear Julia—you talk as if you were sixteen stone, and I swimming in a duck-pond. We can never be in want from now—not more than we are.”
“How can you be sure, Netherby?”
His stern face smiled:
“I can amuse the world. And the world cheerfully flings its pence to its jesters. On the blackest night the court fool may warm his hands at the hearth of the world. And I once heard the greatest ass in London confess that it takes a clever fellow to be reckoned a remarkable fool in these days, Julia.”