It
was so fine and thin now, and the spirit in him was so prodigious.
"No one cares what happens to the man who always succeeds; no one loves
him," he continued. "Do you know, in my trouble I've had more out of
nigger Jim's affection than I've ever had in my life. Then there's
Rockwell, Osterhaut and Jowett, and there's your father. It was worth
while living to feel the real thing." His hands went out as though
grasping something good and comforting. "I don't suppose every man needs
to be struck as hard as I've been to learn what's what, but I've learned
it. I give you my word of honour, I've learned it."
Her face flushed and her eyes kindled greatly. "Jim, Rockwell, Osterhaut,
Jowett, and my father!" she exclaimed. "Of course trouble wouldn't do
anything but make them come closer round you. Poor people live so near to
misfortune all the time--I mean poor people like Jim, Osterhaut, and
Jowett--that changes of fortune are just natural things to them. As for
my father, he has had to stretch out his hands so often to those in
trouble--"
"That he carried me home on his shoulders from the bridge six weeks and
three days ago, at three o'clock in the morning," interjected Ingolby
with a quizzical smile.
"Why did you omit Madame Bulteel and myself when you mentioned those who
showed their--friendship?" she asked, hesitating at the last word.
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