“Certainly.” The Jew did not move, but continued to touch the riding switch with caressing fingers. “I should like to point out, sir, that it would be more economical to buy a better whip while you are about it. Now, this is something that will last a lifetime. It is beautifully made and impossible to wear out. The extra money will be saved over and over again.”
What was the matter with this fool? George thought, feverishly. Didn’t he know he was wasting precious time?
“I don’t want it,” he said violently. “Give me what I want, and for God’s sake stop talking!”
He was not aware of the sudden alarm that jumped into the Jew’s eyes, nor his curious stare at George’s congested face.
George was only aware of the passing time, and when the Jew offered him another whip, saying in a grieved voice that it was a guinea, George threw down a shilling on top of the pound note, snatched up the whip without looking at it, and rushed from the shop.
Cora was waiting at the corner, serene and arrogant. Her hands were thrust deep into her pockets and her eyes watchful.
“I’ve got it,” George said thickly, falling into step beside her. “Let’s go back.”
She allowed herself to be hurried through the streets. They did not speak. George was only conscious of a pounding in his ears and a suffocating desire for her. He almost pushed her up the stairs to the flat, and when she had to search through her pockets and purse for the key, he stood trembling, in an agony of suspense.
Finally she opened the door and they entered the flat. He threw the whip into the armchair and caught hold of her. “Hello, George,” Sydney said from the door.
George didn’t look round. His arms dropped to his sides, and he stood staring down at Cora with glazed eyes. The hateful sound of Sydney’s voice crushed him.