"And do I suffer nothing?" said she.
There was no laughter on Christian's lips now. The transformation to earnest pallor was startling.
"Think of my father," he said, evading the girl's question. "I have all but impoverished him already with my cursed follies, and little does he dream, poor old dad, of the utter ruin that yet hangs over his head."
There was a pause. Then, in a tenderer tone:
"Mona, don't add to my eternal worries. Go back to Derby Haven, like the dear girl that you are. And when this storm blows over—and it will soon be past—then all shall be made right. Yes, it shall, believe me."
There was no answer. Christian continued.
"Go at once, my girl. Here," (diving into his pockets), "I've precious little money left, God help me, but here's enough to pay your way, and something to spare."
He offered a purse in his palm. The girl tossed up his hand with a disdainful gesture.
"It's not money I want from you," she said. Christian looked at her for a moment with blank amazement. She caught the expression, and answered it with a haughty curl of the lip. The sneer died off her face on the instant, and the tears began to gather in her eyes.