His glance dropped, and an unpleasant flush rose to his thin cheeks.
"Well—as it happens, you're better situated than any one to help me to the particular thing I want."
"The particular thing——?"
"Yes. I understand that Mr. Langhope and Mrs. Ansell are both interested in the new wing for paying patients at Saint Christopher's. I want the position of house-physician there, and I know you can get it for me."
His tone changed as he spoke, till with the last words it became rough and almost menacing.
Justine felt her colour rise, and her heart began to beat confusedly. Here was the truth, then: she could no longer be the dupe of her own compassion. The man knew his power and meant to use it. But at the thought her courage was in arms.
"I'm sorry—but it's impossible," she said.
"Impossible—why?"
She continued to look at him steadily. "You said just now that you wished to regain your self-respect. Well, you must regain it before you can ask me—or any one else—to recommend you to a position of trust."
Wyant half-rose, with an angry murmur. "My self-respect? What do you mean? I meant that I'd lost courage—through ill-luck——"