As she flashed an inquiry into his eyes, it was as though she said: "Why don't you tell me everything, and I will help you ?" Or, was it: "Why don't you tell me everything and end it all ?" He longed to press her to his breast, as he had once done in the woods when Denzil had been injured, but that was not possible.

The thought of that far-off day made him say to her, rather futilely: "How is Denzil?
How is Denzil ?" There was swift surprise in her face.

She seemed dumbfounded, and then she said: "Denzil! He's all right, but he does not like your Mr.Tarboe." "My Mr.Tarboe! Where do I come in ?" "Well, he's got what you ought to have had," was the reply.

"What you would have had, weren't you a foolish fellow." "I still don't understand how he is my Mr.Tarboe." "Well, he wouldn't have been in your father's life if it weren't for you; if you had done what your father wished you to do, had--" "Had sold myself for gold--my freedom, my health, everything to help my father's business! I don't see why he should expect that what he's doing some one else should do--" "That Belloc would do, that Belloc and Fabian would do," said the girl.
"Yes, that's it--what they two would do.

There's no genius in it, though my father comes as near being a genius as any man alive.