"But you won't?" His voice was very earnest. "Look here, Miss Uniacke. She's never given a thought to Jill--or Roddy either, latterly. She's bringing a penniless, idle chap into her home to live with her children. She'll have to support him--you know that? At their expense! For, after all, it's Colonel Uniacke's money, you know, that she holds in trust for the next generation. It means a cruel time for them under the thumb of that rotter, Stephen. On a slender income, deprived of their rights and shadowed by this Suffrage nonsense. "Think of Jill, living with Stephen?--and Roddy--a schoolboy, in _his_ hands...! "Instead of which, here am I--luckily a rich man; able to give the boy a chance, and Jill ... pretty well all she wants! "I'd just like you to see some pearls I've got for her in the Roman bank"--he threw his head back and laughed boyishly, with a note of triumph--"They'd make Stephen's mouth water--damn the chap!--I beg your pardon!" But Miss Uniacke smiled grimly; forgetful of the listening parrot. McTaggart, encouraged, started again. "I can't bear to think of Jill for a day in the house with that man. That's why I'm doing this, entirely, to get her away before he returns. Can't you guess what it will save her? The bitterness of seeing him there, ruling in her father's place, in the old home, where he lived..." "Stop!" Miss Uniacke grasped his arm--"I can't stand it!--It's not fair. Edward..." She choked on the name. McTaggart took her hands in his. "Tell me now, honestly"--his blue eyes were keen and anxious as he gazed into her moved face. "D'you think, if your brother were alive, he'd give me Jill?" There came a pause. It seemed to them both that, somewhere near, a shadow hovered, watching them, with a love that had survived the grave. Then, at last, Miss Uniacke spoke. "Yes," she answered solemnly--"I think he would. And so will I." CHAPTER XXXII "Wave, Peter--oh, _do_ wave! Poor little Roddy!..." Jill leaned over the steamer rail, watching the pier slowly recede, and, far away, a tiny figure against the sky, arm aloft. Then, as it grew to a black speck and blurred into the distant view, she turned sharply, tears in her eyes. "I can't _bear_ leaving him!" she cried. "It's not for long," said McTaggart gently. He ran a hand through the girl's arm. "Won't it be jolly after a bit to have him in Rome, living with us?" "Yes." Jill swallowed hard. "You think we shall work it?--I'm rather doubtful." "I'm not," said McTaggart stoutly. "I know Stephen. He's 'no proud!' The economy's sure to appeal to him. And Aunt Elizabeth's sworn to help. She's a brick, that old lady! Oh, by the bye, I'm to give you this." He handed his wife an envelope, directed to her and carefully sealed. "She said you were not to lose it, Jill." Then he laughed suddenly. "Guess what her last words to me were?" "Can't." Jill was beginning to smile, a rather wan little attempt, half her mind still with Roddy.