'Where are you going?'
'Back to Paris, and then—home.'
She placed herself in his way, so that the sunny light of the late afternoon, coming mostly from behind her, left her face in shadow.
'What'll you do without that money?' she asked abruptly.
He paused, getting together his answer with difficulty.
'I have the stock, and there is something left of the sixty pounds Uncle Reuben brought. I shall do.'
'He'll muddle it all,' she said roughly. 'What's the good?'
And she folded her arms across her with the recklessness of one quite ready and eager, if need be, to fight her own battle, with her own weapons, in her own way.
'Get Mr. O'Kelly to keep it, if you can persuade him, and draw it by degrees. I'd have made a trust of it, if it had been enough; but it isn't. Twenty-four pounds a year: that's all you'd get, if we tied up the capital.'
She laughed. Evidently her acquaintance with Montjoie had enlarged her notions of money, which were precise and acute enough before.