"Raised!"
"Yes—you! I tell you you owe me a debt you never can repay."
"I do indeed," says Tita, in a low voice; her small firm hands are clasped in front of her—they are tightly clenched.
"You married him for ambition," goes on Tessie, with cold hatred in her voice and eye, "and——"
"And he?" The girl has risen now, and is clinging with both hands to the arms of her chair. She is very pale.
"Pshaw!" says the dowager, laughing cruelly. "He married you for your money. What else do you think he would marry you for? Are you to learn that now?"
"No." Tita throws up her head. "That pleasure is denied you. He told me he was marrying me for my money, long before our marriage."
Lady Rylton laughs.
"What! He had the audacity?"
"The honesty!" Somehow this answer, coming straight from Tita's heart, goes to her soul, and in some queer, indescribable way soothes her—comforts her—gives her deep compensation for all the agony she has been enduring. Later on she wonders why the agony was so great! Why had she cared or suffered? Maurice and she? What are they to each other? A mere name—no more! And yet—and yet!