"
She remained quite passive. In her eyes there was a far-away look.
"Dear," she said softly in his ear, "you are such a dreamer, aren't
you--such a dear unpractical person? Have you never used your wonderful
imagination to ask yourself what money may really mean? You can buy a
world of beautiful things, you can buy the souls of men and women, you
can buy the law."
He felt a cold pain in his heart. Looking at her through the twilight
he could almost fancy that there was a gleam in her face of something
which he had seen shining out of her father's eyes. His arms fell away
from her. The passion which had thrilled him but a moment ago seemed
crushed by that great resurgent impulse which he was powerless to
control.
"You think that I should do this?" he cried, hoarsely.
"Why not?" she answered. "Money is only vulgar if you spend it
vulgarly. It might mean so much to you and to me."
"Tell me how?" he faltered.
"Mr. Bomford is very fond of money," she continued. "He is fonder of
money, I think, than he is of me. And then," she added, her voice
sinking to a whisper, "there is Garden Green. Of course, I do not know
much about these things, but I suppose if you really wanted to, and
spent a great deal of money, you could buy your freedom, couldn't you?"
The air seemed full of jangling discords.
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