"What does it matter what Nick says?" she urged pantingly. "Why give in to him at every turn? I won't be left behind—just because he wishes it!"
She would have said more. Her self-control was tottering; but Dr. Jim restrained her. "My dear, it is not for Nick's sake," he said. "Come, you are going to be sensible. Sit down and get your breath. There's no time for hysterics. I must go across and speak to my wife before I go."
He looked at Nick who instantly responded. "Yes, you be off! I'll look after her. Be quick, man, be quick!"
But when Dr. Jim was gone, his impatience fell away from him. He moved round the table and stood before her. He was steady enough now, steadier far than she.
"Don't take it too hard," he said. "At least he died like a man."
She did not draw away from him. There was no room for fear in her heart just then. It held only hatred—a fierce, consuming flame—that enabled her to face him as she had never faced him before.
"Why did you let him go?" she demanded of him, her voice deep and passionate, her eyes unwaveringly upon him. "There must have been others. You were there. Why didn't you stop him?"
"I stop him!" said Nick, and a flash of something that was almost humour crossed his face. "You seem to think I am omnipotent."
Her eyes continued to challenge him. "You always manage to get your own way somehow," she said very bitterly, "by fair means or foul. Are you going to deny that it was you who made him write that letter?"
He did not ask her what she meant. "No," he said with a promptitude that took her by surprise. "I plead guilty to that. As you are aware, I never approved of your engagement."