She recoiled a step and raised her eyes.
"How?" she demanded, as with a pistol.
"Ah!" he said. "That's just it. How? Will you promise?"
"I've thought of everything," she said musingly. "If the last day was any day but Sunday I could get arrested on landing and get bailed out and still be in London before night. But on Sunday—no—! So you needn't talk like that."
"Still," he said, "it can be done."
"How?" she demanded again.
"Will you sign a contract with me if I tell you?... Think of what your reception in London will be if you win after all! Just think!"
Those pale eyes gleamed; for Isabel Joy had tasted the noisy flattery of sympathetic and of adverse crowds, and her being hungered for it again; the desire of it had become part of her nature.
She walked away, her hands in the pockets of her ulster, and returned.
"What is your scheme?"