“I have allowed you no hundred a year,” he said angrily, “and I intend to allow you none. Do you mean to tell me that Boughton has paid you a hundred a year on my account?”
“I understood so,” she gasped, shaking with fright.
“I suppose he had some reason for it. If he has done it out of his own money, it is his own business. If he has done it out of mine, I shall have a reckoning up with him, and probably you will have one, too.”
“But, William, have you been under the impression that I was left to starve?”
“I was under no impression at all concerning you. Once for all, Anne, you must understand that it is not my intention to give away the money for which I have worked to people who have been idle.”
“I have not been idle,” she said; “and you forget that I am your cousin, that our mothers——”
“I know all that,” he said, interrupting her; “your people and you had your own way to make in life, and so had I and my people.”
“But if you do not help me”—she burst out, for she could bear it no longer—“if you do not help me, I shall starve.”
“I really don’t see what claim you have upon me.”
“I am your cousin, and I am old, and I shall starve,” she repeated. “I must have money to-day. If I don’t take back money this afternoon my heart will break.” Again his fingers went for a moment in the direction of the cheque-book and tantalized her. She stood up and looked at him entreatingly. “I am not speaking only for myself,” she pleaded, “but for another——” and she broke down.