Mr. Alvin answered with extreme coldness.
“You apparently overlook the fact, Mr. Barrimore, that I have given a home—a good home, too”—(with a wave of his hand round the apartment)—“to both Aimée and her mother. Aimée needs nothing. She was poor enough before I took her. Her mother mended shoes for a living.”
“I don’t mean that kind of help,” Philip hastened to explain. “I want to brighten her life. Couldn’t I take her for a drive sometimes with her mother. I could easily arrange it.”
“I have plenty of money for drives if the women desire it,” replied Alvin rather rudely.
Yes, he had come into Eweretta’s money!
“It is a novel sensation for me,” went on Alvin. “I was a thirteenth son, and born unlucky. I was known in Canada as ‘The Thirteenth Man,’ and many refused to work with me because of my ill-luck—which they said was catching! Well, my luck has changed at last, and, by gad! I mean to keep what I’ve got!”
Philip stared. He could not in the least understand this outburst. It was almost as if the man fancied he, Philip, wanted to rob him.
“I thank you for this call, Mr. Barrimore—which, all the same, I think rather interfering—but I must ask you not to repeat it. We have come here to be quiet and to ourselves.”
“And can’t I see Miss Le Breton?” asked Philip, deeply disappointed.
“It could only make you wretched,” replied the other. “Aimée is, as you know, exactly like her sister. Moreover, ever since Eweretta’s sudden death she has got a delusion that she is Eweretta, and engaged to marry you. She is always raving about you.”