Page 647 - for-the-term-of-his-natural-life

‘This is all devilish fine,’ he said, ‘but suppose it fails?’
‘That is your affair, John. You need not go on with this
business at all, unless you like. I had rather you didn’t.’
‘What the deuce am I to do, then?’
‘I am not as rich as you are, but, with my station and so
on, I am worth seven thousand a year. Come back to Aus-
tralia with me, and let these poor people enjoy their own
again. Ah, John, it is the best thing to do, believe me. We
can afford to be honest now.’
‘A fine scheme!’ cried he. ‘Give up half a million of money,
and go back to Australia! You must be mad!’
‘Then telegraph.’
‘But, my dear—‘
‘Hush, here’s the waiter.’
As he wrote, John Rex felt gloomily that, though he had
succeeded in recalling her affection, that affection was as
imperious as of yore.

For the Term of His Natural Life