"The
beginning of the end and all that kind of thing?"
"You will go on," she cried. "You will become a dependent in this
house, a hanger-on, a sponger. I will hate you. You will hate
yourself. It went through me like a knife when I found it out."
I smoked my cigar in silence. I suppose she was quite right--
horribly right, though I didn't like her any better for being so
plain-spoken about it. I felt myself turning red under her gaze.
"What do you want me to do?" I said at length.
"Pay it back," she said.
"I wish to God I could," I said. "But you know how I live, Teresa,
hanging on by the skin of my teeth--hardly able to keep my head
above water, let alone having a dollar to spare."
"Then you can't pay," she said.
"I don't think I can," I returned.
"Then you ought to leave this house," she said.
"You have certainly made it impossible for me to stay, Teresa," I
said.
"I want to make it impossible," she cried. "You--you don't
understand--you think I'm cruel--it's because I like you, Hugo--
it's because you're the one man I admire above anybody in the
world. I'd rather see you starving than dishonoured."
"Thank you for your kind interest," I said ironically. "Under the
circumstances I am almost tempted to wish you admired me less."
"Am I not right?" she demanded.
"Perfectly right," I returned. "Oh, yes! Perfectly right."
"And you'll go," she said.
"Yes, I'll go," I said.
"And earn the money and pay father?" she went on.
Pages:
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98