And if I go to London, I shall be near Madame and the children, and Mrs.Roland Sefton." The color had come back to Phebe's face, and her voice was steady and musical again.

There was a clear, frank shining in her blue eyes, looking so pleasantly into his, that Mr.Clifford sighed regretfully as he thought of his solitary and friendless life--self-chosen partly, but growing more dreary as old age, with its infirmities, crept on.
"No, no; you need not go into service," he said; "there is money enough of your own to do what you wish with.

Mrs.Roland refuses to receive the income from her marriage settlement till every claim against her husband is paid off.

I shall pay your claim off at the rate of one hundred a year, or more, if you like.

You may have a sum sufficient to keep you at an art school as long as you need be there." "Why, I shall be very rich!" exclaimed Phebe; "and father dreaded I should be poor." "I will run up to London and see what arrangements I can make for you," he continued.