A day came when Mr Warden
observed with pain that his relative responded less nimbly to the
touch. And a little while later the other delivered his ultimatum. Mr
Warden was to leave England, and to stay away from England, to behave
as if England no longer existed on the map, and a small but sufficient
allowance would be made to him. If he declined to do this, not another
penny of the speaker's money would he receive. He could choose.
He chose. He left England, Ruth with him. They settled in Roville, that
haven of the exile who lives upon remittances.
Ruth's connexion with the _mont-de-piete_ had come about almost
automatically. Very soon after their arrival it became evident that, to
a man of Mr Warden's nature, resident a stone's-throw distant from two
casinos, the small allowance was not likely to go very far. Even if
Ruth had not wished to work, circumstances could have compelled her. As
it was, she longed for something to occupy her, and, the vacancy at the
_mont-de-piete_ occurring, she had snatched at it. There was a
certain fitness in her working there. Business transactions with that
useful institution had always been conducted by her, it being Mr
Warden's theory that Woman can extract in these crises just that extra
franc or two which is denied to the mere male. Through constantly going
round, running across, stepping over, and popping down to the
_mont-de-piete_ she had established almost a legal claim on any post
that might be vacant there.
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