“And are you?” he asked.
“I don’t know... I hate sickness. But—he’s rich. Money makes things so much easier.”
He made a gesture of repulsion.
“You couldn’t do a thing so vile as that, surely?” he said.
The horror and disgust he experienced at her callous reasoning revealed itself in his voice, in his eyes as he stared down at her, scarce able to credit what he heard. She looked back at him fiercely.
“How dare you talk to me like that? ... Can’t you see all that such a marriage means to a girl like me? Why shouldn’t I consider myself?”
“I was thinking of the woman who for years believed herself to be his wife,” he replied coldly. “Now that he is free to marry her she has a right to demand that he should fulfil his obligation.”
“He won’t,” she declared.
“I think he will,” he answered confidently.
“You mean—” she began, and stopped, eyeing him with quick suspicion. “I wish I hadn’t told you where he is,” she cried passionately. “But they won’t let you see him. He’s not in a condition to be worried. You can’t bully a man in his condition.”