"My love, do you think I could live in this house without you?"
"And my income, Conrad; that dies with me, does it not?"
"Yes, love."
"That is hard for you."
"I can bear that, Pamela, if I am to bear the loss of you."
"Dearest love, you have always been disinterested. How could I ever doubt you? Perhaps—indeed I am sure—if I were to ask Violet, she would give you the fifteen hundred a year that I was to have had after she came of age."
"Pamela, I could not accept any favour from your daughter. You would deeply offend me if you were to suggest such a thing."
This was true. Much as he valued money, he would have rather starved than taken sixpence from the girl who had scorned him; the girl whose very presence gave rise to a terrible conflict in his breast—passionate love, bitterest antagonism.
"There are the few things that I possess myself—jewels, books, furniture—special gifts of dear Edward's. Those are my own, to dispose of as I like. I might make a will leaving them to you, Conrad. They are trifles, but——"
"They will be precious souvenirs of our wedded life," murmured the Captain, who was very much of Mr. Wemmick's opinion, that portable property of any kind was worth having.