Edwin sprang up as she stumbled forward, with the idea of throwing her arms around his neck. "Don't go on acting like a fool," he said, sternly. "If you must talk, talk sensibly. Otherwise I shall leave immediately."
"I'll send the police after you," she threatened, furiously.
"Do so. You'll be no nearer to gaining your object."
Then Lady Wyke broke down. "Oh, Edwin! Edwin! Edwin!"
Purposely cool and pointedly rude Craver resumed his seat, lighted a fresh cigarette and looked at her critically. "I wouldn't cry if I were you, Lady Wyke. You can't afford to do so at your age without spoiling your face."
"Oh, you brute!"
"Quite so; and, knowing that I am a brute, why, try to force me to become your husband?"
"Oh, I don't know." She dabbed her eyes carefully with her handkerchief. "Perhaps to make you smart for having treated me so insolently. I won't give you up to that girl."
"There is no question of giving up. I am hers; I never was yours. Come, Lady Wyke, don't you think we had better discuss matters calmly."
"What matters?" she asked, wilfully dense.