The lids of his downcast eyes quivered.
“There can’t be much pleasure in our meetings now,” he said. “I don’t care to be reminded of the past; you must feel that. Look here, you shall have the money. I’ll make it a hundred and fifty, though I can’t very well spare it, but only on condition that you let me send it to you.”
She shook her head, and, with a laugh, caught at a branch of the tree with one hand and drew herself up, hanging for a moment gracefully motionless, then dropped like a feather to the ground, and kissed her hand to him.
“No, I’ll have my way. Bring it here to-morrow at four o’clock, or—I’ll go with you now! I’m not exactly in evening dress; but you can explain—you’re good at explaining, you know.”
His face paled, and his breath came fast for a moment, as he thought of this woman with her cigarette in her mouth, her stage smile, and loud, defiant voice, accompanying him into the pure presence of Olivia; then he nodded.
“Very well,” he said, sullenly. “I’ll come. And now I must be going.”
He put out his hand for his watch, and she laughed mockingly.
“I’ll tell you the time,” she said. “No; I can’t see. Off with you. Remember, four o’clock, and you can make it the extra fifty. Here! wait! give me the rest of those cigarettes.”
He held out the silver case, and she was about to pick out the cigarettes, then looked up at him exasperatingly, and put the case in her pocket.
“Perhaps I’ll give it back to you to-morrow, perhaps I won’t. Good-night,” and with a nod she motioned him to go on.