England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Love stories; Twins -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
"Thorold," returned his sister, plaintively--and now she was actually
crying--"you do not expect me to help with my money?"
"No, of course not. What an idea!" he replied, hastily; but all the same
he felt vaguely surprised. All these years Joanna had stinted herself of
comforts, had scraped and saved and pared down every unnecessary expense
with ungrudging cheerfulness, and with all her grumblings and worries
she had never said one word of blame on this score. And now she was
hugging her small fortune almost jealously.
"I am very sorry, dear, but I cannot give you my money," she went on
quickly. "It is my own money, you know. Dear Cousin Rupert left it to
me. I have helped you as well as I could all these years, but I must
keep this for my very own."
"Of course you shall keep it," returned her brother; for Joanna was
growing quite excited. "I suppose you will put it into the London &
County Bank."
"Yes, that will be best; and then I can get it out easily."
"The consols would be better, perhaps," he continued, musingly; "and you
would get more interest. Or you might buy some of those shares that
Doreen was mentioning."
"No, no. I prefer the London & County," returned Joanna, obstinately.
"Let me do what I like with my own money."
And Thorold said no more. But now and then he wondered if Joanna had
drawn on her secret hoard. As far as he could see she had bought nothing
fresh for the house, and certainly not for her dress, during the last
eighteen months, and their bill of fare was not more luxurious.
CHAPTER XVIII.
JOANNA TANGLES HER SKEIN.
"A child of our grandmother Eve, a female; or, for thy more sweet
understanding, a woman."
SHAKESPEARE.
"Men are born with two eyes, but with one tongue, in order that
they should see twice as much as they say."
COLTON.
The house in High Street where the Chaytors lived was somewhat dingy and
uninviting in its outward aspect, but inside it was not without its
advantages.
A small paved court separated it from the street; and at night its front
windows were illuminated by the flaring gaslights from the opposite
shops. All day long the ceaseless patter of foot-passengers on the
pavement, and the rumble and rattle of cabs, omnibuses, and carts, made
the narrow windows shake in their frames. And it was far into the night
before silence brooded over the old town.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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