“You’d like it better if there was money.”
A slow, sinister smile came on his mouth. His eyes never smiled, except to Geoffrey, when a flood of warm, laughing light sometimes suffused them.
“You think I should!”
“Yes. It’s true, isn’t it? You would!”
He turned his eyes aside, and looked at her hands as she washed the forks. They trembled slightly. Then he looked back at her eyes again, that were watching him large and wistful and a little accusing.
His impudent laugh came on his face.
“Yes,” he said, “it is always better if there is money.” He put his hand on her, and she winced. “But I marry you for love, you know. You know what love is—” And he put his arms round her, and laughed down into her face.
She strained away.
“But you can have love without marriage,” she said. “You know that.”
“All right! All right! Give me love, eh? I want that.”