"No, of course he doesn't, or—or you wouldn't be here," he said after a pause.
Then he fell into thought again.
"And if he did know, he'd never ask you for the money," she said.
Caylesham made a wry little grimace. That might be true of John, but he would hesitate to say the same about every fellow. Christine, however, did not see the grimace.
"And you don't want me to lend it—not though it means all this to John?"
"I don't want you to lend it, whatever it means. Pray don't lend it, Frank!"
"Is that—— Well, I don't quite know how to put it. I mean, is that on John's account or on your own?"
"I can't give you reasons; I can't put them in words. It's just terribly hateful to me."
He was puzzled by the point of view, and still more by finding it in her. Perhaps the last six years had made a difference in her way of looking at things; they had made none in his.
"And if I do as you wish, what are you going to say to John? Are you going to say to him that in the end you told me not to lend the money?"