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Updated: June 13, 2025
"Then for goodness sake, leave it to me," Julia said, losing her temper; "I can do it a great deal better than you can; I'm not honest, and you are, and that's a handicap." "In these cases," Rawson-Clew answered imperturbably, "honesty requires the consideration of the lady first and truth afterwards a long way after.
"You must forgive me," he said; "I am very fond of that little girl; and I thought but I had no business to think; I'm an old fool, to think you meant " "I only meant," Rawson-Clew said, speaking with unconscious gentleness, "that I was afraid she might be in difficulties. She may be in trouble about money, or something." "Oh, no," Johnny said cheerfully; "she has a fine head for money matters.
Captain Polkington sipped his tea and ate his bread and butter peacefully. Julia had told him Mr. Rawson-Clew would not be staying long; she had not exactly said why he was come, it seemed rather as if she did not know; but apparently nothing unpleasant had happened so far and he would be going soon, directly after tea no doubt.
He was reading something when she came in, and seeing that she was alone, he handed it to her. It was from Mr. Rawson-Clew she found, a sort of recognition of the discharge of the debt, or at least a formal cancelling of it. It was carefully and conclusively worded, certainly not the unaided work of the young man who had ridden past last night.
The Dutch are early risers, and set about their day's work in good time; but even had they been the reverse, the latest of them would have been about before Julia and Rawson-Clew reached the outskirts of the town. They had stopped for breakfast at the first village they came to after leaving the Dunes, this on the principle of being hung for a sheep rather than a lamb.
"Is a real holiday like a dog's wanderings?" Rawson-Clew inquired; "bounded by no purpose except dinner when hungry?" Julia thought it must be something of the kind.
"My name's Gillat," he went on. "Captain Polkington is an old friend of mine." "Mr. Gillat?" Rawson-Clew said. He remembered the name, and something Julia had said about the bearer of it. It was he who had given her the big gold watch she wore, and he of whom she had seemed fond, in a half-protecting, half-patient way, that was rather inexplicable at least it was till he saw Mr. Gillat.
The blue daffodil, you know, is called after one of the grower's relatives Vrouw Van Heigen." Rawson-Clew said "Yes," though he did not know it before. It struck him as interesting now; the Van Heigens had a blue daffodil then, and Julia went to them for some purpose besides earning a pittance as companion.
It sounded like some one sobbing, not quiet sobs, but slow deep spasmodic ones like the last remains of a tempest of tears which has not spent itself but only been imperfectly suppressed by sheer will. Rawson-Clew paused though possibly he had no business to do so. "Oh, why," one wailed from within, "why is not father dead? If he were dead if only he had been dead!"
It could only be done by renouncing that upon which she had set her heart; she could not work out the scheme and pay the debt of honour to Rawson-Clew. The legacy had at first seemed a heaven-sent gift for that purpose, but now, like the blue daffodil, it seemed that it could not be used to pay the debt.
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