"Take my ring," she said. "It’s worth ten times what you want."
"I can’t buy a ticket with it. I don’t believe you have any money, the lot of you!"
Paradise was lost, her hopes destroyed, her pride mortally wounded; so, having nothing to lose, she let herself go. She threw off all restraint; she was as coarse, as fierce, as she wished to be.
Polly was wonderfully patient with the girl.
"You shall be paid," she said. "I’ll go down with you to Mr. Geraldine. If he hasn’t any ready money, he’ll write you a cheque."
He still sat there writing. He paid no attention to them as they opened the door and went in.
"Vincent!" said Polly. "Will you please write a cheque for Angelica at once?"
Then he laid down his pen and looked at them for a long time in contemptuous silence.
"I told her," he said, "just what I shall tell you. I have no money."
"But, Vincent, a cheque——”