“I can't take it—I won't. No, no, no!”
“Don't be foolishly sensitive, Miss Allis. Think what your father lost when he parted with Diablo for a trivial thousand dollars; and it was my fault, for I arranged the sale. Your father's needs—pardon me, but I know his position, being his banker—yes, he needs this money badly.”
“My father needs a good many things, Mr. Crane, which he would not accept as a gift; he would be the last man to do so. We must just go on doing the best we can, and if we can't succeed, that's all. We can't accept help, just yet, anyway.”
She was bitter; the reference to her father's troubles, though meant partly in kindness, angered her. It caused her to feel the meshes of the net drawing closer about her, and binding her free will. The fight was indeed on. More than ever she determined to struggle to the bitter end. Almost indefinably she knew that to accept this money, plausible as the offering was, meant an advantage to Crane.
“You can't leave this large sum with the bookmaker,” he objected. “He would like nothing better; he would laugh in his sleeve. I can't take it; it isn't mine.”
“I won't touch it.”
“Perhaps I had better speak to your father about it,” said Crane, tentatively; “he can have no objection to accepting this money that has been won.”
“Father won't take it, either,” answered the girl; “I know his ideas about such matters. He won't take it.”
Crane brought all his fine reasoning powers to bear on Allis, but failed signally in his object. He was unaccustomed to being balked, but the girl's firm determination was more than a match for his adaptable sophistry. He had made no headway, was quite beaten, when Dixon's opportune return prevented absolute discomfiture. Crane left shortly, saying to Allis as he bade them good night: “I'm sorry you look upon the matter in this light. My object in coming to-night was to give you a little hope for brightness in your gloomy hour of bad luck; but perhaps I had better speak to your father.”
“I'd rather you didn't,” she answered, somewhat pleadingly. “Dr. Rathbone has cautioned us all against worrying father, and this could have no other result than but to distress him.”