“I borrowed it from Carter’s—there!”
Stuart shrugged his shoulders disdainfully.
“Where did you think I got it from, then?”
“From Mendes. I don’t know anyone else who would be likely to lend you money.”
For a moment Molly wavered between wrath and fear. Then something in Alistair’s face overcame her, and she broke down in a whimper.
“Don’t be angry with me, Alistair! Don’t look like that. I didn’t know what to do. The servants all left me, I had nowhere to go, and we’ve been so hard up lately. I thought you wanted money badly. It was for you more than for myself, really. I was afraid you would get tired of living with me if we were poor. You threatened to give up the house and everything only the other day; you know you did. I didn’t think you would mind my borrowing a little from him—he’s your friend as well as mine. I didn’t go to his house, only to his office in the City; and he was awfully good, and gave me a hundred pounds at once, and told me to come again when I wanted more.”
Alistair remembered his own reception in Mendes’ office.
“He wouldn’t have given the hundred pounds to me,” was all he said.
“No!—you’re not going!” Molly screamed, as she saw him turning from her. “Alistair! Alistair!”
She cast herself on the ground before him and caught him by the foot, in a paroxysm of sobs and wails.