"Ah! what a
good man that is," says Mr. Sherrick with tears in his eyes, "what a
noble fellow, sir! He would die rather than not pay every farthing over.
He'd starve, sir, that he would. The money ain't mine, sir, or if it was
do you think I'd take it from the poor old boy? No, sir; by Jove! I
honour and reverence him more now he ain't got a shilling in his pocket,
than ever I did when we thought he was a-rolling in money."
My wife made one or two efforts at Samaritan visits in Howland Street,
but was received by Mrs. Clive with such a faint welcome, and by the
Campaigner with so grim a countenance, so many sneers, innuendoes,
insults almost, that Laura's charity was beaten back, and she ceased to
press good offices thus thanklessly received. If Clive came to visit us,
as he very rarely did, after an official question or two regarding the
health of his wife and child, no further mention was made of his family
affairs. His painting, he said, was getting on tolerably well; he had
work, scantily paid it is true, but work sufficient.
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