She made a curious movement toward her niece, then suddenly, convulsively, she dabbed down something lumpy on the table and turned to follow her brother. Unless—’ Something clicked in his mind and he stared at his friend without seeing him. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. ” “It seems so—so unworthy”—she picked among her phrases “of the noble love you give—” She stopped, through the difficulty she found in expressing herself. There was once a philanthropist who dressed with shameful shabbiness and carried pearls in his pocket. He wanted to know what the joke against him was—if any. But I am sick of tearing up letters and hopeless of getting what I have to say better said.
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