Buck up. But she wished she could put the thing she had done in some way to them so that it would not hurt them so much as the truth would certainly do. Her head rose. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. Her fingers closed upon it instinctively. Indeed, a note of weeping broke her voice for a moment as she burst out, “You know as well as I do that money was a loan!” “Loan!” “You yourself called it a loan!” “Euphuism. “How would you prevent it?” she asked. A hansom stopped a little way off. Spurlock understood that his vantage would be temporary; the Wastrel had been knocked down, not out. ‘Not here.
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