Why should they ask me? Why should
they come to me? Why should I give all that sum?"
"Why?" she repeated the word, smiling. "You're a generous man; you've
felt the pleasure of giving. I always think of you as one of the most
generous men in the town. I'm sure you've often realized what a really
splendid thing it is to be able to give. D'you know, it comes over me
sometimes like a perfect shock that if I couldn't give--something,
do--something, I shouldn't be able to live; I would be obliged to go to
bed and die right off."
"Ah!" he murmured, and then paused. "We aren't all like you, Mrs
Sutton. I wish to God we were. But seriously, I'm not for giving that
hundred; it's against my grain, and that's flat--you'll excuse me
speaking plain."
"I like it," she said quickly. "Then I know where I am."
"No," he reiterated firmly, "I'm not for giving that hundred."
"Then I'm bound to say I'm sorry," she returned kindly. "The whole
scheme will be ruined, for it's one of those schemes that can only be
carried out in a particular way--if they aren't done on the inspiration
of the moment they're not done at all. Not that I care so much for the
organ itself.
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