“No, father: I did not say that at all.” “But I'll show you, my boy, that your father can be generous once of a time. You love her, don't you, Standish?” His father had laid his hand upon his shoulder now, and spoke the words in a sentimental whisper, so that they did not sound so profane as before. “I worship the ground she treads on,” his son answered, tremulous with eagerness, a girlish blush suffusing his cheeks and invading the curls upon his forehead, as he turned his head away. “Then I'll show you that I can be generous. You shall have her, Standish Macnamara; I'll give her to you, though she is one of the new families. Put on your hat, my boy, and come out with me.” “Are you going out?” said Standish. “I am, so order round the car, if the spring is mended. It should be, for I gave Eugene the cord for it yesterday.” Standish made a slight pause at the door as if about to put another question to his father; after a moment of thoughtfulness, however, he passed out in silence. When the door had closed--or, at least, moved upon its hinges, for the shifting some years previously of a portion of the framework made its closing an impossibility--The Macnamara put his hands deep into his pockets, jingling the copper coins and the iron keys that each receptacle contained. It is wonderful what suggestions of wealth may be given by the judicious handling of a few coppers and a bunch of keys, and the imagination of The Macnamara being particularly sanguine, he felt that the most scrupulous moneylender would have offered him at that moment, on the security of his personal appearance and the sounds of his jingling metal, any sum of money he might have named. He rather wished that such a moneylender would drop in. But soon his thoughts changed. The jingling in his pockets became modified, resembling in tone an unsound peal of muffled bells; he shook his head several times. “Macnamara, my lad, you were too weak,” he muttered to himself. “You yielded too soon; you should have stood out for a while; but how could I stand out when I was sitting in that trap?” He turned round glaring at the chair which he blamed as the cause of his premature relaxation. He seemed measuring its probable capacities of resistance; and then he raised his right foot and scrutinised the boot that covered it. It was not a trustworthy boot, he knew. Once more he glanced towards the chair, then with a sigh he put his foot down and walked to the window.