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He began to talk freely. He was a rubber-merchant, and
he had a wife and three children. Fanny was a governess,
and he couldn’t make out why she hadn’t stuck to that in-
stead of coming to Paris.
‘Me and Mrs. Price told her Paris was no place for a girl.
And there’s no money in art—never ‘as been.’
It was plain enough that he had not been on friendly
terms with his sister, and he resented her suicide as a last
injury that she had done him. He did not like the idea that
she had been forced to it by poverty; that seemed to reflect
on the family. The idea struck him that possibly there was a
more respectable reason for her act.
‘I suppose she ‘adn’t any trouble with a man, ‘ad she? You
know what I mean, Paris and all that. She might ‘ave done it
so as not to disgrace herself.’
Philip felt himself reddening and cursed his weakness.
Price’s keen little eyes seemed to suspect him of an in-
trigue.
‘I believe your sister to have been perfectly virtuous,’ he
answered acidly. ‘She killed herself because she was starv-
ing.’
‘Well, it’s very ‘ard on her family, Mr. Carey. She only ‘ad
to write to me. I wouldn’t have let my sister want.’
Philip had found the brother’s address only by reading
the letter in which he refused a loan; but he shrugged his
shoulders: there was no use in recrimination. He hated the
little man and wanted to have done with him as soon as
possible. Albert Price also wished to get through the neces-
sary business quickly so that he could get back to London.

0 Of Human Bondage