‘I think we all seem to walk in darkness,’ he said, thinking aloud. ‘I never had the least notion of this. Had I known anything of it, Uncle Simpson should have had all that I could give him.’ Miss Pepperdine melted. She had formed rather hard thoughts of Lucian since his marriage. The side-winds which blew upon her ears from time to time represented him as living in a style which her old-fashioned mind did not approve: she had come to consider him as extravagant, frivolous, and unbalanced. But she was a woman of sound common sense and great shrewdness, and she recognised the genuine ring in Lucian’s voice and the sincerity of his regret that he had not been able to save Simpson Pepperdine some anxiety. ‘I’m sure you would, my boy,’ she said kindly. ‘However, Simpson has done with everything now. I didn’t tell Judith, because she frets so, but the doctors don’t think he’ll ever regain consciousness--it will only be a matter of a few days, Lucian.’ ‘And that only makes one wish that one had known of his anxieties sooner,’ he said. ‘Five years ago I could have helped him substantially.’ He was thinking of the ten thousand pounds which had already disappeared. Miss Pepperdine did not follow his line of thought. ‘Yes, I’ve heard that you’ve made a lot of money,’ she said. ‘You’ve been one of the lucky ones, Lucian, for I always understood that poets generally lived in garrets and were half-starved most of their time. I’m sure one used to read all that sort of thing in books; but perhaps times have changed, and so much the better. Simpson always read your books as soon as you sent them. Upon my word, I’m sure he never understood what it was all about, except perhaps some of the songs and ballads, but he liked the long words, and he was very proud of these little green books--they’re all in his bureau there, along with his account-books. Well, as I was saying, I understand you’ve made money, Lucian. Take care of it, my boy, for you never know when you may want it, and want it badly, in this world. There’s one thing I want you to promise me. I don’t yet know how things will be when Simpson’s gone, but if he is a bit on the wrong side of the ledger, it must be made up by the family, and you must do your share. It mustn’t be said that a Pepperdine died owing money that he couldn’t pay. I’ve already talked it over with Judith, and if there is money to be found, she and I and you must find it between us. If need be, all mine can go,’ she added sharply. ‘I can get a place as a housekeeper even at my age.’ Lucian gave her his promise readily enough, and immediately began to wonder what it might imply. But he agreed with her reasoning, and assured himself that, if necessary, he would live on a crust in order to carry out her wishes. And soon afterwards he set out for the vicarage, promising to return for news of Mr. Pepperdine’s condition at an early hour in the morning.