“Hush!”
“And what did she marry you for?” she went on, unheeding his remonstrance. “You don’t mean to tell me she cares for you, because if you do I’d tell you that you lied. She care for you! Why, you ain’t fit to wipe the dust off her boots! And—you’ve—married her!”
“Bella, listen to me,” he said, hoarsely. “I’ve—I’ve met you as you insisted, you know at what risk, and I’ve brought you what you wanted and fifty pounds more. Now, what are you going to do? Be sensible, for Heaven’s sake, be sensible. It—it can’t matter to you what I’ve done.”
“You’re right. So far as you are concerned,” she put in with unmitigated contempt, “you might marry twenty times a month for what I cared.”
“I know that; don’t I say so?” he went on hurriedly, “and—and so—as it’s a matter of indifference to you—you said so, you know—why—why, you can keep your tongue quiet. There’s—there’s no reason why—why anybody should know anything about. If—if we meet at any time, you—you—can pass me by——”
She stopped him with a laugh.
“Do you think I’m a child?” she said, scornfully. “I know what you want, and I’ll do it—for a price.”
“That’s right,” he said, with a gasp of relief. “That’s talking sensibly. I knew you’d say so, Bell.”
“Yes, you knew I’d sell myself, didn’t you?” she retorted, with a dangerous flash of her black eyes. “Well, we’ll see. Give me hold of that money first.”
He took out his pocketbook, and with a hot, trembling hand extracted the notes and held them out to her.