But there was nothing else--only
ten pieces of tissue-paper. She remembered seeing her father with similar
pieces; and her mother saying there was nothing like Bank of England notes.
But they had been crumpled and dirty, these were snowy white. Each had a
hundred pounds marked upon it; and Joan was aware that ten times a hundred
is a thousand. But a thousand pounds possessed no more real meaning for her
than a million of money does for the average man. She could not estimate
its significance in the least or gauge its possibilities. Only she knew
that she would far rather have had a few words from "Mister Jan" than all
the money in the world.
Mr. Tregenza's voice below broke in upon the girl's disappointment, and,
hastily hiding the money under some linen in a little chest of drawers,
where the picture of Joe's ship was also concealed, she hurried to join her
father. But the empty envelope, with her name printed on it, she put into
her pocket that it might be near her.
Joan did not for an instant gather what meaning lay under this great gift
of money, and to her the absence of a letter was no more than a passing
sorrow. She read nothing between the lines of this silence; she only saw
that he had not forgotten, and only thought that he perhaps imagined such
vast sums of money would give her pleasure and make the waiting easier.
What were banknotes to Joan? What was life to her away from him? She
sighed, and fell back upon the thought of his wisdom and knowledge.
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