There was no cunning in her eye as she answered: "I don't know any bank, except the Bank of England."
"Why the deuce didn't you say so at once—eh?" cried Anthony. "He gives you bank-notes. Nothing better in the world. And he a'n't been givin' you many lately—is that it? What's his profession, or business?"
"He is…he is no profession."
"Then, what is he? Is he a gentleman?"
"Yes," she breathed plaintively.
"Your husband's a gentleman. Eh?—and lost his money?"
"Yes."
"How did he lose it?"
The poor victim of this pertinacious interrogatory now beat about within herself for succour. "I must not say," she replied.
"You're going to try to keep a secret, are ye?" said Anthony; and she, in her relief at the pause to her torment, said: "I am," with a little infantile, withering half-smile.