“You gave me my chance.”
“Nonsense. Betsy did that. You are doing the rest for yourself. You’re making good. That’s evident. You’re happy, too.... Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, little pilgrim,” he said smilingly, “I guess you really knew your business that night under the stars in the Park. And the credit is all yours——”
“It’s yours!” she interrupted with a sudden passion in her voice that startled him.
“My dear child,” he protested, but she went on breathlessly:
“I know what you’ve done if you don’t! You made it all possible. This is what I craved; what I needed. It’s life to me, Mr. Annan. And you gave it.”
“I had absolutely nothing to——”
“You did! You had everything to do with it. From the time you spoke to me in the Park to the time I left a letter for you, I lived for the first time in my life. You don’t understand. Kindness comes very easy to you—and—and out of your rich store you are—are generous with the treasures of your mind——”
Something choked her; she averted her head.