"Tell her, Dorian," says Sir James. But Dorian looks doggedly away from her, through the open window, into the darkening garden beyond.
"Tell me, Dorian," she says, nervously, going up to him, and laying a small white trembling hand upon his arm.
"There is no reason why you should be distressed," says Branscombe, very coldly, lifting her hand from his arm, as though her very touch is displeasing to him. "You are quite safe. Sawyer's mismanagement of the estate has brought me to the verge of ruin; but Lord Sartoris has taken care that you will not suffer."
She is trembling violently.
"And you?" she says.
"I shall go abroad until things look brighter." Then he turns to her for the first time, and, taking both her hands, presses them passionately. "I can hardly expect forgiveness from you," he says: "you had, at least, a right to expect position when you made your unhappy marriage, and now you have nothing."
I think she hardly hears this cruel speech. Her thoughts still cling to the word that has gone before.
"Abroad?" she says, with quivering lips.
"Only for a time," says Sir James, taking pity upon her evident distress.
"Does he owe a great deal?" asks she, feverishly. "Is it a very large sum? Tell me how much it is."