“I’ve told you that——”
“But,” interrupted she, “I never told you that I was—was cured—of Roger Wade.”
“But you are. And he’s off your conscience.”
Beatrice’s eyes had an expression that sent a pang—and a thrill, too—through him. “Peter—I love him,” she said with quiet intensity—Dan Richmond intensity. “And I think you know now what that means with me.”
He paled, stared at his cup. “I wish to God I didn’t,” he muttered.
“Now, Peter, you don’t mean that and you know it. The only reason you keep after me is because you’ve always been used to having your own way and you hate to be baffled.”
“That’s all the reason you stick on after Wade,” retorted he.
She laughed. “I’ll admit that has something to do with it. But not all, Hanky. And the other part’s the important part.”
“You must know he’s after your money,” said he, looking down sourly.
“And you?” retorted she.