“About eight thousand pounds!” she answered mechanically.
He sat down and wrote a check, which he laid before her.
“You will have to endorse that,” he remarked in a matter-of-fact tone. “Your name at the back will do instead of a receipt.”
She sprang to her feet.
“Keep your money,” she cried. “I will not touch it. Please open the door for me! I am going.”
“By all means—if you wish it,” he answered undisturbed. “At the same time, I am curious to know why you came here at all if you did not intend to accept it.”
She faced him, hot and angry.
“I did intend to accept it,” she declared. “It is that or ruin. But you are too cruel! You make it—impossible.”
“You surprise me,” he answered. “I suppose you know best.”
“For heaven’s sake tell me,” she cried passionately, “what has come to you, what manner of a man are you? You loved me once! Now, even, after all these years, you cannot deny it. You have gone out of your way to be with me, to be my companion wherever we are. People are beginning to smile when they see us together. I don’t mind. I—for God’s sake tell me, Wingrave! Why do you do it? Why do you lend me this money? What can I do for you? What do you want me to be? Are you as cold as a stone? Have you no heart—no heart even for friendship!”