For a second her eyes met his then she looked away and a wave of burning colour swamped the delicate pink and white of her painted cheeks. “Because I’m at the end of my tether—because I’m broke,” she said with a reckless laugh that made him wince.
“And the money I settled on you?” he said slowly, hating the necessity that forced him to speak of it.
“Gone—long since. Did you think I could live on that?” she flashed contemptuously.
With an effort he restrained himself. What use to point out to her that what she regarded as a pittance would have kept an ordinary family in luxury.
“Then what you want is money—just money?” he said, his voice as contemptuous as her own.
“I must live,” she retorted.
“And how have you lived?” he said heavily. The colour rose again to her face. “What is that to you?” she muttered.
“Nothing—in one sense. If I am to finance you again—everything,” he said curtly. “But I must have details. Without them I will do nothing.” He paused for a minute, fighting his abhorrence of the whole situation.
“You call yourself the Countess Sach. It is not the name of the man for whom you left me. Is he dead?”
“I don’t know—I left him,” she answered, very low.