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They had torn the crouching man away from his hold upon the skirt of her dress. A dozen of them were round him savage men, bearded men. They hacked at him with knives. All seemed to strike him together. Their arms rose and fell. The blood did not flow from him-it squirted. His red dress was dabbled in it. He threw himself this way and that, purple upon crimson, like an over-ripe plum.
He realized that he would be in sight of the audience all the time. It did not strike him that the manager was using him merely as a piece of decoration. One day, however, at rehearsal the leading lady said: "If my lute-player could play a few chords here or the orchestra for him-it would help me tremendously. I've got all this long cross with nothing to say." Paul seized his opportunity.
But it did not enable him-it never had enabled him to understand these extraordinary "goings-on," which the newspapers were every day reporting, on the part of well-to-do, educated women, who were ready it seemed to do anything outrageous just for a vote! "Of course nobody would mind if the rich women the tax-paying women had a vote help us Tories famously.
She opens the envelope, and finds a letter enclosed to her. "Oh! yes, yes, yes! it is him-it is from him!" she stammers, in the exuberance of her wild joy. And now the words, "You are richer than me," flash through her thoughts with revealed significance. Maria grasps the old man's hand.
I didn't think, I hoped anyhow, Ed Kinney wouldn't-" She stopped him with a startled look in her great eyes. "Don't talk about him-it ain't right. I mean it don't do any good. What could I do, after Father died? Mother and I. Besides, I waited three years to hear from you, Will." He gave a strange, choking cry. It burst from his throat that terrible thing, a man's sob of agony.
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