"
"Two years ago, when I first took the little house, I used to walk up and down
the back-garden trying to cry. I never can cry. Can you?"
"It's some time since I tried. What was the trouble? Overwork?"
"I don't know; but I used to dream that I had broken down, and had no money,
and was starving in London. I thought about it all day, and it frightened me--
oh, how it frightened me!"
"I know that fear. It's the most terrible of all. It wakes me up in the night
sometimes. You oughtn't to know anything about it."
"How do you know?"
"Never mind. Is your three hundred a year safe?"
"It's in Consols."
"Very well. If any one comes to you and recommends a better investment,--even
if I should come to you,--don't you listen. Never shift the money for a minute,
and never lend a penny of it,--even to the red-haired girl."
"Don't scold me so! I'm not likely to be foolish."
"The earth is full of men who'd sell their souls for three hundred a year; and
women come and talk, and borrow a five-pound note here and a ten-pound note
there; and a woman has no conscience in a money debt. Stick to your money,
Maisie, for there's nothing more ghastly in the world than poverty in London.
It's scared me. By Jove, it put the fear into me! And one oughtn't to be afraid
of anything.
Pages:
943
944
945
946
947
948
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967