"You're doing yourself no good, you know," he said presently, in his caressing voice. "Only harm. Poor fool that you are."
"Miss Quin——"
Patricia spoke entreatingly. She went closer to Blanche, her voice low and her hands appealing.
"Mrs. Tallentyre, is there any need for me to hear? I was going when you came: my one wish is to go now. You're mistaken in me. You needn't have any thought——"
"Please let me tell you. For a fortnight I have been ill. I have written to Monty, and he has not answered my letters. This afternoon I received, without a letter, a thousand pounds in bank-notes. From Monty, you understand. A thousand pounds. It was my solatium. I was to take the thousand pounds, and—good-bye! You understand that, also? You're very quick."
During all this time, Monty stood with his back turned to Blanche, and his hands in his pockets. He appeared not to be listening, but to be thinking of another matter. Such disregard was to be expected of him; but at this point he showed that he had been listening intently. He wheeled round with angering insolence, his eyes widely opened, his head thrown back.
"Oh," said Monty, as if with surprise. "You've come to chaffer!"
ii
Blanche flinched, and Patricia—stung to loyalty for one so helpless in face of the power to insult—felt a sudden outgoing of pity for her.
"You poor thing!" she cried vehemently. "You're suffering!"