There was an awkward silence, during which the two men looked at each other until Edmonds spoke.
“Are you wise in suggesting this, Miss Creighton?” he asked.
Sally laughed harshly. “Oh, yes,” she replied, “it’s a sure thing. And I don’t suggest. I tell him to get it done.”
She turned again to Hawtrey, who sat very still looking at her with a flush in his face. “Take your pen and give him that letter to the broker now.”
There was this in her favor that Hawtrey was to some extent relieved by her persistence. He had not the courage to make a successful speculator, and he had already felt uneasy about the hazard that he would incur by waiting. Besides, although prices had slightly advanced, he could still secure a reasonable margin if he covered his sales. In any case, he did as she bade him, and in another minute or two he handed Edmonds an envelope.
The broker took it from him without protest, for he was one who could face defeat.
“Well,” he said, with a gesture of resignation, “I’ll send the thing on. If Miss Creighton will excuse me, I’ll tell your man to get out my wagon.”
He went out, and Sally turned to Hawtrey with the color in her cheeks and a flash in her eyes.
“It’s Harry Wyllard’s money!” she commented, as she met his glance with flashing eyes.