"On a condition!"
Once again their eyes met, and once again Barrymaine's dropped; his fingers clenched and unclenched themselves, he stirred restlessly, and, finally, spoke.
"And your condition. Is it—Cleone?"
"No!" said Barnabas vehemently.
"Then, what is it?"
"That from this hour you give up brandy and Mr. Chichester—both evil things."
"Well, and what more,—what—for yourself? How can this benefit you?
Come, speak out,—what is your real motive?"
"The hope that you may, some day, be worthy of your sister's love."
"Worthy, sir!" exclaimed Barrymaine, flushing angrily. "Poverty is no crime!"
"No; but there remain brandy and Mr. Chichester."