have been easy for another girl. But Kerrie wasnât the sort who could take, and give, love except the right way. With her it would be one or the otherâthe money or her happiness.
He knew what she was thinking. She wasnât in love with any one now. Perhaps sheâd never been in love. With her figure, with her face, there must have been men, thoughâplenty of men, and all the wrong kind. She would be a little cynical about men. So what was she throwing away? Something that didnât exist, probably, for something that you could turn instantly into the delicious good things of life, which she had never had.
Kerrie laughedâa funny, quaking little laugh. âAll right, Uncle Cadmus, you win. I die a virgin. Other women have. Maybe Iâll become a saint. Wouldnât that be a scream, Ellery? Saint Kerrie. And all the other virgins would put up candles for me, and pray at my shrine!â
Beau was silent.
Kerrie said fiercely: âI canât turn all that money down. I canât! No one could. Could you?â
âIt wouldnât be a problem with me,â said Beau gruffly.
She looked him in the eye. âIt wonât be with me, either. But I think weâre talking about different things.â
âCongratulations,â said Beau.
It had to be. And of course she was right. He knew what it meant to go hungry, to be pushed around, to peer up at life from under the eight-ball.
Kerrie smiled and got out of her chair suddenly and came round the table. She leaned over him, so close he smelled her skin. It smelled like cloverâBeau had smelled a clover once.
âMind if I kiss you for being such a swell Santa?â
She kissed his lips. Lightly, in the shadows. He kept his lips deliberately tight, cold, hard.
But his voice was thick. âYou shouldnât have done that, Kerrie. Damn it, you shouldnât!â
âOh, then youâre the keeper of my conscience, too?â She kissed him again, laughing. âDonât worry, grandpa. I shanât fall in love with you!â
Beau got up from the chair so suddenly it fell over with a clatter and Kerrie stared at him with startled eyes.
âCome on, Miss Millionbucks,â he growled. âLetâs go tell the good news to your girl friend. I bet sheâll die.â
IV. Goodbye to All That
Kerrie and Vi wound their arms about each other in the dingy bedroom and cried and cried and cried, while Beau sat gloomily in the one good chair and helped himself freely to the contents of a brandy bottle he had thought to buy on the way home.
Kerrie acted like a hysterical child. She threw her wardrobe, one poor dress at a time, all over the room as if they were confetti. Several times she ran over and kissed Beau, and he grinned back at her and offered her a drink.
But she refused. âIâm drunk on good luck. Vi, Iâm rich!â
The landlady came up to investigate the noise, but Kerrie poured out the news in a burst, rattling on like a machine-gun, and a cunning look came into the landladyâs faded eyes.
âImagine that!â she said, smacking her lips. âImagine thatâa real heiress! My!â
Beau got rid of her.
âSheâll have every reporter in town here by morning,â he said. âKerrie, pipe down. Theyâll tear you to pieces.â
âLet âem! I love âem all! I love the whole world!â
âWet blanket!â shrieked Vi. âKerrie, heâs just jealous!â
âEllery, you arenât!â
âI guess I am,â said Beau. âThatâs itâjealous. Of the income on half of fifteen million simoleons.â
âOh, darling, donât be! Youâll always be Santa Claus to meâisnât he a handsome Santa, Vi? Darling, I wonât forget what youâveââ
âDamn it,â snarled Beau, âdonât patronize me!â
âBut Iâm not. Itâs just that I want