'You fool,' said Clara, in exasperation, 'you've married me. If she moves at all you will be ruined. You will be sent to prison.'
'Do you want to get out of it?' he asked.
'I? No.... I want to protect you.... Oh, it's my fault. It's my fault I thought I could help you. I thought I could help you.... I could have helped you if only you had told me.... You must have known. You couldn't imagine that you could come back to London and not be——'
'But I did,' he said. 'I never thought of it. I never do think of anything except in terms of my work.... I'll tell Clott to see to it.'
Clara clenched her fists until her nails dug into the palms of her hands.
'I shall have to leave you,' she said at last. 'I shall have to leave you.'
She pulled off her wedding-ring
'Perhaps I'd better go away,' he muttered at last very slowly. 'It's a pity. Everything was going so well. Lord Verschoyle is deeply interested. He has two hundred thousand a year.'
Clara laughed at him.
'He is willing to sit on my committee.'