"I beg your pardon," he said quickly, flushing to the roots of his hair.
"I might have known, after what you said to me this evening."
"We had a little fire here to-day, sir," she said, struggling with the
pride and shame of poverty; "but we have been out of firing for two
or three days, and we owe the wharfman something now. The two boys
picked up a few chips; but the poor children find it hard to get them,
sir. Times are very hard with us, sir; indeed they are. We'd have got
along better, if my husband's money had come, and your rent would have
been paid--"
"Never mind the rent!--don't speak of that!" he broke in, with his face
all aglow. "Mrs. Miller, I haven't done right by you,--I know it. Be
frank with me. Are you in want of--have you--need of--food?"
No need of answer to that faintly stammered question. The thin, rigid
face was covered from his sight by the worn, wan hands, and all the
pride and shame of poverty, and all the frigid truth of cold, hunger,
anxiety, and sickened sorrow they had concealed, had given way at last
in a rush of tears.
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