Page:Middle Aged Love Stories (IA middleagedlove00bacorich).djvu/186

 her brother to help, her lover, for whom any offering was too small. She was no longer the ignorant, untravelled little spinster: she had flung away all her own hopes and fears to be the life and happiness of one poor soul that had none but her, and at that height the world seems small indeed.

"Mais, mademoiselle, I take your money and go home, I restore myself, I return—how do I pay? I sink till now zat you desire to go more zan to do anysing—I say nossing zen. Now zat you fear to go, you want your home (ah, Mlle. Sabine, vous avez raison: to be home, c'est le paradis!), now I tell you zat, I, too, I die if I go not back to France! I am too long away.... But how do I pay? I pay someway, vous savez, I will not go else!"

"But, monsieur, you will get it when you get there! Don't you remember your brother's book—the Grammar? You always said that if ever you got to