“Do talk or say something, please!” she exclaimed. “You look at me like some grim figure. Say something. Sit down and be natural.”
“May I ask you some questions?”
“Of course you may,” she replied. “You may do anything sooner than stand there looking so grim and unbending. What is it you want to know?”
“Did you understand that Wenham Gardner was this sort of man when you married him?”
She shrugged her shoulders slightly.
“I suppose I did,” she admitted.
“You married him, then, only because he was rich?”
She smiled.
“What else do women marry for, my dear moralist?” she demanded. “It isn't my fault if it doesn't sound pretty. One must have money!”
Tavernake inclined his head gravely; he made no sign of dissent.