‘Desperate? Why?’
‘How can I make you understand what I have gone through? What do you care? And what do I care whether you understand or not? It wasn’t for money, and Beatrice French knew it wasn’t.’
‘Then it must have been that you could not bear the monotony of your life.’
Her answer was a short, careless laugh.
‘Where is this shop? What do you do?’
‘It’s a dress-supply association. I advise fools about the fashions, and exhibit myself as a walking fashion-plate. I can’t see how it should interest you.’
‘Whatever concerns you, Nancy, interests me more than anything else in the world.’
Again she laughed.
‘What more do you want to know?’
She was half turned from him, leaning at the mantelpiece, a foot on the fender.