Part 135 (2/2)
”Indeed, I'm not. I'm making fun of myself.... Thus. 'He saved others, himself he cannot save.' It isn't exactly a school-board text.”
He released her wrist, but since he was between her and the door, she could not escape. ”What an enormous amount of mischief one little woman can do!”
”I'm sorry; I'm awful sorry about the picture.”
”I'm not. I'm grateful to you for spoiling it.... What were we talking about before you mentioned the thing?”
”About getting away--and money. Me and you going away.”
”Of course. We will get away--that is to say, I will.”
”And me?”
”You shall have fifty whole pounds for spoiling a picture.”
”Then you won't----?”
”I'm afraid not, dear. Think of fifty pounds for pretty things all to yourself.”
”You said you couldn't do anything without me.”
”That was true a little while ago. I'm better now, thank you. Get me my hat.”
”S'pose I don't?”
”Beeton will, and you'll lose fifty pounds. That's all. Get it.”
Bessie cursed under her breath. She had pitied the man sincerely, had kissed him with almost equal sincerity, for he was not unhandsome; it pleased her to be in a way and for a time his protector, and above all there were four thousand pounds to be handled by some one. Now through a slip of the tongue and a little feminine desire to give a little, not too much, pain she had lost the money, the blessed idleness and the pretty things, the companions.h.i.+p, and the chance of looking outwardly as respectable as a real lady.
”Now fill me a pipe. Tobacco doesn't taste, but it doesn't matter, and I'll think things out. What's the day of the week, Bess?”
”Tuesday.”
”Then Thursday's mail-day. What a fool--what a blind fool I have been!
Twenty-two pounds covers my pa.s.sage home again. Allow ten for additional expenses. We must put up at Madam Binat's for old time's sake.
Thirty-two pounds altogether. Add a hundred for the cost of the last trip--Gad, won't Torp stare to see me!--a hundred and thirty-two leaves seventy-eight for baksheesh--I shall need it--and to play with. What are you crying for, Bess? It wasn't your fault, child; it was mine altogether. Oh, you funny little opossum, mop your eyes and take me out!
I want the pa.s.s-book and the check-book. Stop a minute. Four thousand pounds at four per cent--that's safe interest--means a hundred and sixty pounds a year; one hundred and twenty pounds a year--also safe--is two eighty, and two hundred and eighty pounds added to three hundred a year means gilded luxury for a single woman. Bess, we'll go to the bank.”
Richer by two hundred and ten pounds stored in his money-belt, d.i.c.k caused Bessie, now thoroughly bewildered, to hurry from the bank to the P. and O. offices, where he explained things tersely.
”Port Said, single first; cabin as close to the baggage-hatch as possible. What s.h.i.+p's going?”
”The Colgong,” said the clerk.
”She's a wet little hooker. Is it Tilbury and a tender, or Galleons and the docks?”
”Galleons. Twelve-forty, Thursday.”
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