He began again reflectively to pace up and down. "I don't see," he said, "how you are to pay me over this money without his knowing it."
"Don't trouble yourself about that," said Elizabeth, contemptuously. "Mr. Gerard will never ask what I do with my money."
"Well he has enough of his own, certainly," said Paul, philosophically. "And yet, poor fellow, I am sorry for him if he ever finds out how you have deceived him."
"He never shall find out," said Elizabeth. She rose and pulled down her veil. "It is so cold," she said shivering, and indeed she looked chilled to the core. "I cannot stay here any longer. This thing is settled, isn't it? You will promise?" There was a tone of piteous entreaty in her voice.
"How am I to know," he asked, still hesitating "that you will keep your word? Once married to Gerard, you might—forget."
"If I do," she returned quietly, "you will always have the power to break yours and ruin my happiness."
"So be it, then. I won't interfere with you. After all, we probably shouldn't have got on well. Come—let us part friends, at least."
He held out his hand, but hers was again securely hidden in her muff, and the smile that gleamed on her face was pale and cold as the winter day itself. "Good-bye," she said, and turned away. He fell back, with a muttered oath.
"Upon my word, my lady," he said, "you might be a little more gracious." At that moment Elizabeth came back. There was a softer look on her face.
"I loved you once," she said. "Good-bye." And she held out her hand. He took it in silence. Thus they parted for the last time.