"You ought not to be dependent on such people…. Perhaps in a flat—or one of those little houses in St. John's Wood—"
"It would be too heavenly. But what's the good of talking about it?"
"You must know what I want to do for you, Elise. I want to make you happy, to put you safe above all these wretched worries, to take care of you, dear. You will let me, won't you?"
"My dear Mr. Waddington—my dear friend—" The dark eyes brightened. She saw a clear prospect of the five hundred. Compared with what old Waddy was proposing, such a sum, and a mere loan too, represented moderation. The moment had come, very happily, for reopening this question. "I can't let you do anything so—so extensive. Really and truly, all I want is just a temporary loan. If you really could lend me that five hundred. You said—"
"I didn't say I would. And I didn't say I wouldn't. I said it would depend."
"I know. But you never said on what. If the securities I offered you aren't good enough, there's the legacy."
He was silent. He knew now that his condition had had nothing to do with the securities. He must know, he would know, where he stood.
"My aunt," said Elise gently, "is very old."
"I wouldn't dream of touching your poor little legacy." He said it with passion. "Won't you drop all this sordid talk about business and trust me?"
"I do trust you."