"Hush. You sadden me."
"Would you aid me?" I insisted.
She drew a long, deep breath but made no answer.
"Tell me," I repeated, taking her by the hand, "would you aid me, Penelope Grant?"
"Why do you ask?" she protested. "You know I would."
"And yet," said I, "although I am in funds, you refuse aid and choose rather to play the tailoress! Is that fair?"
"But—I am nothing to you——"
"Are you not? And am I then more to you than are you to me, that you would aid me in necessity?"
She drew her hand from mine and went back to her chair.
"That is my fate," said she, smiling at me. "I was born to give, not to receive. I can not take; I can not refuse to give."