“Eh? So I was. So I shall if I can only get time.”
“Where’d you get the money she’s already had?”
“It’s her money that I invested for her.”
“You’ve been living on the principal—is that it? On the money that should have gone to Glory.”
The tension proved too great for Ocky. A joke might relieve the situation. “Seems to me that’s where it’s gone.” When no laugh followed he hastened to add, “Financial pressure. Of course I’m sorry.” Then, “I want you to lend me enough to tide me over.”
“I’ve been tiding you over all your life. You’ll have to tell her. When you’ve told her, I’ll see what I can do once more.”
For the first time that evening the foolish tone of banter went out of the weak man’s voice.
“For God’s sake! Don’t make me do that. You don’t know what a punishment you’re inventing. D’you know what that’d do to her?—kill what little love she has for me. She’d hate me. She’d despise me even more than she does already. I’ve got to live with her. Oh, my God!”
Barrington drew back into the shadow. He was deeply moved, and ashamed of it.
The other man, goaded deeper into sincerity by his silence, continued, pleading brokenly.