your acquaintance. Very good, then. You are going to see him, and to
tell him who you are. That is enough. But as for deceiving"--he
paused, trying to understand this extreme scrupulosity of
conscience--"if you come to deceiving--well, in a kind sort of a way
you did allow him to think his correspondent a man. I admit that. What
harm is done to him? None. He won't be so mean, I suppose, as to ask
for his money back again."

"I think he ought to have it all back," said Iris; "yes, all from the
very beginning. I am ashamed that I ever took any money from him. My
face burns when I think of it."

To this her grandfather made no reply. The returning of money paid for
services rendered was, to his commercial mind, too foolish a thing to
be even talked about. At the same time, Iris was quite free to manage
her own affairs. And then there was that roll of papers in the safe.
Why, what matter if she sent away all her pupils? He changed the
subject.

"Iris, my dear," he said, "about this other world, where the people
amuse themselves; the world which lives in the squares and in the big
houses on the Chelsea Embankment here, you know--how should you like,
just for a change, to belong to that world and have no work to do?"

"I don't know," she replied carelessly, because the question did not
interest her.

"You would have to leave me, of course. You would sever your
connection, as they say, with the shop."