"But it is!" The tone was grave, with a little line of hope running through. "Take it, Jane!" he said gently. "I am not asking anything. It's yours, you know!"
She shook her head. "It seems as if it wouldn't be quite—fair— And we do need the new wing for contagion—the worst way!"
He took up the two checks and folded them in his thin, quiet fingers and lifted the little bag.
"You will take them," he said. He slipped them into the bag and closed it. "Money is only good for what it will buy— Mine does not seem able to buy anything better worth while at present.... Besides"—he dropped the little bag and crossed the hearth—"I shall not spoil your life—or mine! You're going to ask me to visit you, you know, in your little home!"
He was smiling at her.
"You're tired!" she said with quick remorse.
But he lifted a hand. "I'm all right. I'm not going to play on your sympathies that way!" He sat down. "I'm all right!"
"You're going to bed!" said Aunt Jane. She got up and rang the bell.
Then she came and stood by his chair and looked at him and hesitated....