“You're a fool, Bob; you never learn,” she said wearily. “Anyhow, you have got to cut out this kind of thing; the business won't stand for it long. Well, as you can't be trusted with dollars, I'll have to put you on an allowance. I hate to be mean, but if you waste what I give you, you'll get no more.”
Charnock's face got red. “This is rather a nasty knock. Not that I want your money, but the thing's humiliating.”
“Do you think it isn't humiliating to me?”
“Perhaps it is,” said Charnock, with a half-ashamed look. “I admit I have been something of an ass, but you are mean, in a sense. What are you going to do with your money, if you don't intend to spend it?”
“Use if for making more; anyhow, until I get enough.”
“When will you have enough?”
“When I can sell out the business and live where I want; give you the friends you ought to have instead of low-down gamblers and whisky-tanks. If you'd take hold and work, Bob, we'd be rich in a few years. The boys like you, you could do all the trade, and the boom that's beginning will make this settlement a big place. But I guess there's no use in talking—and I'm ill and tired.”
Sadie's pose got slack and she leaned her arms on the table with her face in her hands. Charnock, feeling penitent, tried to comfort her.
“You're a very good sort, Sadie, and mean well; I'll go steady and try not to bother you again. But we won't say any more about it now. Are those new letters? The mail hadn't come when I left.”
She gave him two envelopes, and after reading part of the first letter he started and the paper rustled in his hand.