He stared at her. "Get—it?"
She nodded. "They'll be thinking about that Mr. Herman—and kind of talking about him and loving him.... I reckon it'll do him good—whoever he is." She was looking at 'Mr. Herman' in space, regarding him with kindly gaze.
Medfield smiled grimly. "I don't suppose you know what it is—not to want any one to know who you are?"
She looked at him. "I should hate terribly not to have folks know I'm Jane Holbrook!"
She was thoughtful a minute. "Seems as if it wouldn't be me—not more than half me—if folks didn't know I was Aunt Jane!" She was looking at him questioningly.
He shook his head.
"You've never been in my place." The words were dry.
"No.... I have a good many things to be thankful for," she added impersonally.
His eyes were looking at something before him and there was a little hard smile in their gaze. "Let some of them try it awhile," he said, as if answering an accusation. "Let them try!" He turned to her.
"I can't go in a street-car or a restaurant or a store in town—I can't walk along the street like other men—without being beset by people with axes to grind." He looked at Aunt Jane as if he thought she might have an axe concealed somewhere about her person. "They carry them around with them in their pockets," he said savagely, "ready the minute they see me coming down the street. They line up with them and wait for me to appear. The minute a man hears my name, he doesn't think of me—he's thinking what he can get out of me." His mouth set itself close. "I'm not a man—I'm money!"