" He put on his hat, and, lost in his fur coat, passed out into the
corridor. On the stairs he met a man who said:
"How do you do, Mr. Pillin? I know your son. Been' seeing the chairman?
I see your sale's gone through all right. I hope that'll do us some
good, but I suppose you think the other way?"
Peering at him from under his hat, Joe Pillin said:
"Mr. Ventnor, I think? Thank you! It's very cold, isn't it?" And, with
that cautious remark, he passed on down.
Alone again, old Heythorp thought: 'By George! What a wavering,
quavering, thread paper of a fellow! What misery life must be to a
chap like that! He walks in fear--he wallows in it. Poor devil!' And a
curious feeling swelled his heart, of elation, of lightness such as
he had not known for years. Those two young things were safe now from
penury-safe! After dealing with those infernal creditors of his he would
go round and have a look at the children. With a hundred and twenty a
year the boy could go into the Army--best place for a young scamp like
that. The girl would go off like hot cakes, of course, but she needn't
take the first calf that came along. As for their mother, she must look
after herself; nothing under two thousand a year would keep her out
of debt.
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