She seemed to make her head grow rigid.
“One thing at a time, then,” she said. “You know everything. What happened to him at the telephone?” And when he said that someone—when he was in a place where he ought not to have been—had recognized his voice, she said: “Oh!” and then again, “Oh! that explains.”
Grimshaw looked at her, his dark eyes imploring.
“It can be cured?” he said.
“It ought to be,” she answered. “It depends. I’ll look at him.”
“Oh, you must,” he answered.
“Well, I will,” she retorted. “But, you understand, I must be paid my fee.”
“Oh,” he said, “don’t rub it in just now.” “Well, you rubbed it in just now,” she mocked him. “You tried to get round my sympathies. I’ve got to harden myself to get back to where I was. You know you shook me. But I’m a lonely woman. My work’s all I’ve got.”
“Katya!” he said. “You know your half of your father’s money is waiting for you. I’ve not spent a penny of it.”
“I know you’re a dear,” she said, “but it doesn’t alter matters. I won’t take money from a man who won’t make a sacrifice for me.”