“I’ve told you it was my business and not yours.”
He received this in silence; then he questioned: “You’ve been sending letters for her, I suppose? To whom?”
“Oh, why do you torment me? Nelson was not supposed to know that she’d been away. She left me the letters to post to him once a week. I found them here the night we arrived.... It was the price—for this. Oh, Nick, say it’s been worth it—say at least that it’s been worth it!” she implored him.
He stood motionless, unresponding. One hand drummed on the corner of her dressing-table, making the jewelled bangle dance.
“How many letters?”
“I don’t know... four... five... What does it matter?”
“And once a week, for six weeks—?”
“Yes.”
“And you took it all as a matter of course?”
“No: I hated it. But what could I do?”