'But five hundred was——'
'That's not there! That's kept for me. That's the most splendid part of it all!' In that indeed seemed to her to lie the finest proof of victory. The rest might have been shame; that her five hundred lay intact meant change of heart. She had not pressed her five hundred on Airey Newton. There are times when everything should be taken, as there are when all should be given; her instinct had told her that.
Fricker smiled again; his deft fingers parted the notes into two uneven heaps. The fingers seemed to work of their own accord and to have eyes of their own, for his eyes did not leave Peggy Ryle's face.
'Is the man in love with you?' He could not help returning to that explanation.
'Not a farthing, if he had been!' cried Peggy.
'Then he's an old man, or a fool.'
'Why can't I be angry with you?' she cried in an amused despair. 'Are—are greed and—nonsense the only things you know?'
'Are you finding new words for love?' he asked with a sneer.
Peggy laughed. 'That's really not bad,' she admitted candidly. Under the circumstances she did not grudge Fricker a verbal victory. The poor man was badly beaten; let him have his gibe!