"I suppose you'll be sorry now for having told me."
He lifted his long lashes, that were like a girl's, and looked at her. The minutes that had passed had altered his expression. There was again a sparkle of resolve, perhaps of relief, in his glance. Without changing his position, he spoke drowsily, and yet reassuringly, like a man with a large and easy grasp of the situation. She was not sure whether it was a renewal of confidence on his part or a bit of acting.
"No, dear, no. I wanted to get your point of view. It's always interesting to me. I see your objections—of course. I may say that I even shared some of them—till—"
She allowed him a minute in which to resume, but, as he kept silence, she ventured to ask:
"Does that mean that you don't share them now?"
"I see what there is to be said—all round. It isn't to be expected, dear, that you, as a woman, not used to business—"
"Oh, but I didn't understand that this was business. That's just the point. To borrow money might be business—to borrow it on security, you know, or whatever else is the usual way—but not to take it as a present."
He jerked himself up into a forward posture. When he replied to her, it was with didactic, explanatory irritation.
"When I said that, I was legitimately using language that might be called exaggerated. Hyperbole is, I believe, the term grammarians use for it. I didn't expect you, dear, to take me up so literally. It isn't like you. You generally have more imagination. As a matter of fact, Davenant's offer was that of a loan—"
"Oh! So it was—that man?"