“I want to know if it's true,” she said.
“Yes, mother, it is.”
“You've given it all away?”
“Yes, mother.”
“Your own folks won't get none of it?”
Jerome shook his head. He had a feeling as if he were denying his own flesh and blood; for the moment even his own conscience turned upon him, and accused him of injustice and lack of filial love and gratitude.
Ann Edwards looked at her son, with a face of pale recrimination and awe. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it without a word. “I never had a black silk dress in my life,” said she, finally, in a shaking voice, and that was all the reproach which she ever offered.
“You shall have a black silk dress anyhow, mother,” Jerome replied, piteously. He went out of the room, and his father got up and followed him, closing the door mysteriously.
“That was a good deal to give away, J'rome,” he whispered.
“I know it, father, and I'll work my fingers to the bone to make it good to you and mother. That's all I've got to live for now.”