“But not together.”
“Nearly together. There were only a few days intervening. And you had neither money nor friends.”
“You don’t know what I had. But I would rather have died of want on father’s grave than have shared his means,” continued Afy, growing passionate again.
“Where is he? Not hung, or I should have heard of it.”
“He has never been seen since that night, Afy.”
“Nor heard of?”
“Nor heard of. Most people think he is in Australia, or some other foreign land.”
“The best place for him; the more distance he puts between him and home, the better. If he does come back, I hope he’ll get his desserts—which is a rope’s end. I’d go to his hanging.”
“You are as bitter against him as Mr. Justice Hare. He would bring his son back to suffer, if he could.”
“A cross-grained old camel!” remarked Afy, in allusion to the qualities, social and amiable, of the revered justice. “I don’t defend Dick Hare—I hate him too much for that—but if his father had treated him differently, Dick might have been different. Well, let’s talk of something else; the subject invariably gives me the shivers. Who is mistress here?”