“That’s the worst of it—I know you would. And I nag at you and I shall go on doing it. I feel I shall—and I do so want to do better.”
“Won’t money make a difference? That’s what’s the matter with us, Jehane; we’ve not had money.”
She placed her arms about his neck. “And that’s what I started to say, Ocky. You’ll do it this time, won’t you?”
“Make money? Rather. I should think so. Was talking to Playfair only this morning and he—— But look here, what makes you ask that? You’ll take all the stuffing out of me if you begin to doubt. Who’s been saying anything?”
“It isn’t what they said.”
He lit his pipe and crossed over to the window. In the darkness his outlined figure looked strangely round-shouldered and ineffectual. Her heart sank and her hope became desperate. His voice reached her blustering and muffled. She did wish he would remove his pipe when he spoke to her.
“I know. I know. Confound him! He’s been throwing cold water on my plans as usual. Wants to see me, does he? Well, if he wants badly enough to cross London, Ocky Waffles is his man. I shan’t go to him. That’s certain.”
Jehane strove to believe that his opposition to Barrington was a token of new strength.
Four days later a note arrived. She was tempted to open it, but it was addressed to her husband. Directly he came in she placed it in his hands.
“Read it aloud. What does he say?”