How hardly he
himself had taken his sonship she read in the strange sadness of his
face. She dared not let him see how desperately sorry for him she felt;
the most perfunctory phrase might betray her. Her knowledge of his
falseness stood between them like a wall; blindly she struggled to keep
it staunch, not letting her rushing pity undermine and crumble it. He
had been false to her, like his father. Father and son, they had
deceived and betrayed her; honor and truth were not in them.
"So you see," the son was saying, "I have a close personal interest in
this question of the money. Naturally it--means a good deal to me
to--have as much of it as possible restored. Of course there is a great
deal which--he took, and which--we are not in position to restore at
present. I will explain later what is to be done about that--"
"Oh, don't!" she begged. "I never want to see or hear of it again."
Suddenly she turned upon him, aware that her self-control was going, but
unable for her life to repress the sympathy for him which welled up
overwhelmingly from her heart.
"Won't you tell me something more about it? Please do! Where is he? Have
you seen him--?"
"I cannot tell you--"
"Oh, I will keep your confidence.
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