I can't bring myself to think of money
in relation to that matter; all the same, it's a serious loss to my
daughter, very serious loss. I've got my family pride to think of.
My daughter's name, well--it's my own; and, though I say it, I'm
respected--a regular attendant--I think I told you. Sometimes, I assure
you, I feel I can't control myself, and it's only that--and you, if I
may say so, that keeps me in check."
During this speech, his black-gloved hands were clenching and
unclenching, and he shifted his broad, shining boots. Gyp gazed at
them, not daring to look up at his eyes thus turning and turning from
Christianity to shekels, from his honour to the world, from his anger to
herself. And she said:
"Please let me do what I ask, Mr. Wagge. I should be so unhappy if I
mightn't do that little something."
Mr. Wagge blew his nose.
"It's a delicate matter," he said. "I don't know where my duty lays. I
don't, reelly."
Gyp looked up then.
"The great thing is to save Daisy suffering, isn't it?"
Mr. Wagge's face wore for a moment an expression of affront, as if from
the thought: 'Sufferin'! You must leave that to her father!' Then it
wavered; the curious, furtive warmth of the attracted male came for
a moment into his little eyes; he averted them, and coughed. Gyp said
softly:
"To please me."
Mr. Wagge's readjusted glance stopped in confusion at her waist.
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