Her lip was quivering, and she was still under the influence of the excitement which the visit of these people had brought about.
"No," said Brent—coming very close to her, "no, you don't. That's the extraordinary part of it. The trouble with you, Honora, is that you want something badly very badly—and you haven't yet found out what it is.
"And you won't find out," he added, "until you have tried everything.
Therefore am I a good Samaritan, or something like it."
She looked at him with startled eyes, breathing deeply.
"I wonder if that is so!" she said, in a low voice.
"Not until you have had and broken every toy in the shop," he declared. "Out of the mouths of men of the world occasionally issues wisdom. I'm going to help you get the toys. Don't you think I'm kind?"
"And isn't this philanthropic mood a little new to you?" she asked.
"I thought I had exhausted all novelties," he answered. "Perhaps that's the reason why I enjoy it."
She turned and walked slowly into the drawing-room, halted, and stood staring at the heap of gold and yellow bills that Mr. Grainger had deposited in front of the place where she had sat. Her sensation was akin to sickness. She reached out with a kind of shuddering fascination and touched the gold.
"I think," she said, speaking rather to herself than to Brent, "I'll give it to charity."