She took the envelope, and found inside five ten-pound notes. She knew the wise thing to do was to throw the money at him and tell him to go to hell, but fifty pounds impressed her, and she could not give up such a sum, no matter what the consequences might he.
“Where did you get this from?” she asked.
“I’ve had that sum by me,” he returned, watching her. “I got it out of the post office for you. There’s more where that came from.”
“Well, thank you,” she said, wondering just how much there was. Perhaps it would he as well, she thought, to wait a little while before getting rid of him.
“Now, come on,” he said; “you’re going to get yourself some clothes.”
They went together, and when they returned, having spent all the money except for a pound or two, George pointed to the bedroom.
“Get out of that outfit,” he said grimly “You’re not wearing clothes from a pimp.”
She showed a flash of temper. “Who do you think you are?” she snapped. “I’ll wear what I like.”
Before she could stop him, he had reached out and had laid hold of the front of her dress in his thick fingers. He jerked her forward, and with a twisting movement he ripped the dress right down.
“Get out of those things or I’ll tear them off you,” he said, white as clay.