There was a pathetic absurdity about the suggestion. Airey's gruff laugh relieved the sternness of his indignation.
'Yes, I've shown such fine practical talents, haven't I?' she asked forlornly.
'You were very extravagant, but you'd have been in a tolerable position but for Fricker. Dramoffskys and Glowing Stars between them have done the mischief.'
'Yes. If I hadn't cheated him, and he hadn't cheated me in return, I should have been in a tolerable position. But I knew that before I came here, Mr. Newton.'
'Well, it's the truth,' he persisted, looking at her grimly over the top of the paper.
'You needn't repeat it,' she flashed out indignantly. Then her tone changed suddenly. 'Forgive me; it's so hard to hear the truth sometimes, to know it's true, to have nothing to answer.'
'Yes, it is hard sometimes,' Airey agreed.
'Oh, you don't know. You've not cheated and been cheated; you've had nothing to conceal, nothing to lie about, nothing that you dreaded being found out in.' She wrung her hands despairingly.
'I've warned you before now not to idealise me.'
'I can't help it. I believe even your Paris advice was all right, if I'd understood it rightly. You didn't mean that I was to think only of myself and nothing of anybody else, to do nothing for anyone, to share nothing with anyone. You meant I was to make other people happy too, didn't you?'