“Never,” he said, and dropped his hands and walked over to the fire. She stood where he had left her.
“I understand,” she heard him say, “I understand that you sent Mrs. Simpson five hundred dollars for the hospital. Simpson told me so yesterday, at the bank.”
“I had a little money of my own—from my father and I was glad to do it, Hugh. That was your mother's charity.”
Her self-control was taxed to the utmost by the fact that he was moved. She could not see his face, but his voice betrayed it.
“And Mrs. Simpson?” he asked, after a moment.
“Mrs. Simpson?”
“She thanked you?”
“She acknowledged the cheque, as president. I was not giving it to her, but to the hospital.”
“Let me see the letter.”
“I—I have destroyed it.”