"Then"—he looked at her—"someone lent you the money?"
Something in his tone made her shrink again. She hesitated.
"Chris!" he said.
Nervously she answered him. "Jack lent me forty pounds."
"Jack!" he said. "You weren't afraid to ask him, then?"
"Oh no!" she said quickly. "I'm not a bit afraid of Jack."
"Only of me, Chris!"
She gave herself back to him with a swift, shy movement. "It's the fear of vexing you," she said. "I don't mind vexing—other people. It's only you—only you. Trevor, say you understand!"
He did not answer her instantly, but the close holding of his arms drove all misgiving from her soul. He rose to his feet, raising her with him, pressing her to him faster and ever faster till her arms crept round his neck again, and she lay, a willing prisoner, against his heart.
And so holding her, at last he answered her tremulous appeal. "My darling, never be afraid of vexing me! Never be afraid that I shall not understand!"