She did not enter the cabin at once, but paused on the threshold and stared at the silent, recumbent figure in the bunk. I owe his mother one, and will repay the debt, with interest, to her son. She had found the mausoleum underneath a broken monument. What had happened to it? She had broken it, certainly. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account.
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