"How many years would that be?"
"I'm not very sure; on and off, it's about ten since I began using some of their money to—help out my income. Latterly—you may as well know it—I haven't had any real income of my own at all."
"So that their money has been paying for—for all this."
Her hands made a confused little gesture, indicating the luxury of his personal appointments and of the room.
He shrugged his shoulders and arched his eyebrows in a kind of protest, which was nevertheless not denial. "W-well! If you choose to put it so!"
"And for me, too," she went on, looking at him now with a bewildered opening of her large gray eyes—"for my visits, my clothes, my maid—everything!"
"I don't see any need," he said, with a touch of peevishness, "for going so terribly into detail."
"I don't see how it can be helped. It's so queer—and startling—to think I've had so much that wasn't mine."
"You mustn't think it was deliberately planned—" he began, weakly.
"And now the suggestion is," she interrupted, "that Mr. Davenant should pay for it. That seems to me to make it even worse than—than before."