Miranda walked back to the bench. She was not troubled to explain Wilbraham's misconception of her movement. She was only anxious to be rid of him. "What income do you want?" she asked.
"You have three thousand a year," he returned. "Of that I take it Warriner takes a largish slice."
Miranda flushed. "My husband has never asked for a farthing since the Ten Brothers slipped out of Gibraltar. He has never received a farthing," she said angrily.
"An imprudent remark," said Wilbraham. "I might feel inclined to raise my price."
"At all events you shall not slander him."
Wilbraham looked at her with his head cocked on one side. "You are very loyal," said he, with genuine admiration. "I will not raise my price."
Miranda did not, by any gesture or word, acknowledge his compliment. She stood over against him with a face just as hard and white as he had shown to her.
"I say seven hundred a year," he said briefly. "I will call for it myself every quarter."
"I will send it to you," she interrupted.
"I prefer to call for it," said he; for so he concealed his own address and kept her within his reach. "You will not leave Ronda even for a week without giving me due notice of your destination. I will take a quarter's payment to-day. You draw on a bank in Ronda, I suppose, so a cheque will serve."