Accustomed to doing for him what he was too lazy to do for himself, she rose and fetched the pile of correspondence that had accumulated during his absence, and, going back to the sofa, watched him tearing open and throwing aside letter after letter until she could keep silent no longer.
“Aren’t you going to the Club?”
He laughed shortly. “Not me,” he said, with a glance that made her flinch. “You seem to forget I’ve been away for a fortnight. My wife’s society is good enough for me tonight.”
With an involuntary tremor she turned her head that he might not see the loathing she knew was written on her face, and picked up a novel with shaking fingers. She had not expected that he would go to the Club, and only a passionate longing to shorten the hours she must spend alone with him made her propose it. Her lips trembled as she turned the pages of the book mechanically, not reading but listening to his angry comments on the letters that were evidently not pleasing to him. He flung the last one from him with a snarl.
“That charming brother of yours is asking for trouble! Overrun his allowance again and has the cheek to write and ask for a cheque by return. I’ll see him in Hades first. I’ve warned him before the allowance is ample and that I wouldn’t raise it by a single halfpenny. Seems to think I’m made of money,” he added, kicking the letter petulantly.
The book slipped to the floor as Marny sat up with a jerk, staring at him uncomprehendingly.
“His allowance—Denis—I don’t understand,” she said slowly, with a puzzled frown.
He looked at her with a curious smile. “Don’t you, my dear?” he said unpleasantly. “Neither does Denis, apparently. No Irishman seems to understand the value of money, and I suppose Denis is only conforming to type when he fails to understand that the yearly allowance I make him has got to last a year. He can whistle for what he wants now, I shan’t give it to him.”
“But, Clyde, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she gasped, “the allowance you make him—why do you make Denis an allowance? Why can’t he live on his own money?”
Lord Geradine smiled again.