He laughed again.
“Gone, eh? Why? He got sick of you, I suppose. Who wouldn’t?”
“He didn’t get sick of me!” said Rosaleen, quietly, but with a quivering lip.
“Ah!... Of course not!... He thought it was his duty to go? That’s the way those good little boys get themselves out of an awkward situation.”
“No!” said Rosaleen. “I—wanted him to go.”
“But it wasn’t very hard to get rid of him, was it?”
“Yes! Yes! It was!” she cried.
“Then why did you do it, may I ask? His money was extremely useful.”
“Lawrence!” she cried, in a sort of despair. “Don’t you realise that all people aren’t—like that? Don’t you know that there are some good people?”
“You mean yourself, I take it. You want me to realise how much better you are than me? Is that the idea?”