“And when you have the letter,” she continued, “you will bring it straight back to me?”
“Of course,” he promised, “only first I must find out what their terms are. They will probably begin by suggesting an extravagant sum. Tell me how far you are prepared to go?”
“You think I shall have to pay a great deal of money, then?” she asked, anxiously.
“That depends entirely,” he answered, “upon what you call a great deal of money.”
“I might manage two hundred pounds,” she said, doubtfully.
He smiled.
“I am afraid,” he said, “that Messrs. Jacobson & Co., or whatever their name is, will expect more than that.”
“It is so unlucky,” she murmured. “I have just paid a huge dressmaker’s bill, and I have lost at bridge every night for a week. Do the best you can for me, dear Mr. Saton.”
He leaned towards her, but he was too great an artist not to realize that her feeling for him was one of pure indifference. He was to be made use of, if possible—to be dazzled a little, perhaps, but nothing more.