"Because I don't—want to!"
"But why?"
Jacqueline burst into tears again.
"I'd rather beg in the streets!" she wept in a high whine. "I'd rather starve in the gutter man ask that man for a son!"
"Yes! yes! Of course, I understand that!" he agreed, eagerly. "That's natural pride, that is! But you might get somebody else to get your money for you. You might give somebody the power of attorney."
The sobs stopped abruptly and she stared at him in drunken scorn.
"Signed with my name and address, eh? No, thanks!"
"Well, a letter then," he suggested. "I should think a letter would do just as well. Look here! Give me a letter and I'll go and get your money for you!"
"I'd rather die than let my son know I'm alive!" she cried, her voice hoarse with passion and weeping. "He's not to know at any price! I'd rather kill myself! Yes, I would! Kill myself!"
"But he'll never know!" protested Laroque. He was fairly dancing with excitement. But Jacqueline apparently did not hear him.