“You’re not engaged!”
“I have been engaged a week.”
“To that man?”
“To Mr Pelham.”
He was silent, and she heard his hard breathing. When he spoke his voice was hoarse.
“Well, you can’t marry him.”
“Why not?”
“Why?” He laughed gratingly. “Women are inexplicable, but isn’t there still some sort of necessity to pretend that a little more than money is wanted for a husband?”
“You are right,” said Miss Arbuthnot slowly. “Fortunately for me I need not pretend. I am going to marry Mr Pelham because—I love him.”
There was a silence which lasted for what seemed to her an interminable time. Fenwick broke it with an effort.