“Frank!”
“Oh, come: it’s of no use to ride the high horse with me, my lady. I’m not a fool. I repeat it: you haven’t been since the night you disgraced us by inviting that little blackguard, Harry Payne, to see you; and it would have been better if you had not come now.”
Claire winced as if she were being lashed, but she uttered no word of complaint. It was her fate, she told herself, to suffer for others, and she was ready to play the social martyr’s part, and save May and Burnett if she could.
As she debated in her mind whether Burnett had not proposed the solution of the difficulty in taking her sister away, the thought was crushed by the recollection that May was Gravani’s wife, and that she would be saved and made happier could she leave with him.
Then the feeling came that all this was madness, and the position hopeless, and she said imploringly:
“Let me see May, Frank.”
“What do you want with her? To beg for more money? You’ve kept her short enough lately.”
“Frank! indeed—”
“No lies, please,” he cried. “I know you’ve had at least a guinea a week from her for long enough past.”
It was true, but the money was for Gravani’s child; and Claire’s face grew hollow and old-looking as she felt that she dared not defend herself.