For the first time since the revelations that followed Leslie's downfall a red brand of shame and anger flamed in Millicent's cheeks. She rose, facing the speaker with an almost breathless "How dare you? Is there no limit to the price I must pay for my folly? Thurston was——. But how could any woman compare him with you?"
"Sit down again, Millicent," suggested Leslie with an uneasy laugh. "These heroics hardly become you—and nobody can extort a great deal in return for—nothing better than you. In any case, it's no use now debating whether one or both of us were foolish. I'm speaking no more than the painful truth when I say that if I can't get the man back into my hands I shall have to make a break without a dollar from British Columbia. Since you have offended your English friends past forgiveness, God knows what would become of you if that happened, while Thurston would marry Miss Savine and sail on to riches—confusion to him!"
Millicent was never afterwards certain why she accepted the quest from which she shrank with loathing, at first. While her husband proceeded to substantiate the truth of his statement, she was conscious of rage and shame, as well as a profound contempt for him; and, because of it, she felt an illogical desire to inflict suffering upon the man whom she now considered had too readily accepted his rejection. Naturally, she disliked Miss Savine. She was possessed by an abject fear of poverty, and so, turning a troubled face towards the man, she said:
"I don't know that I shall ever forgive you, and I feel that you will live to regret this night's work bitterly. However, as you say, it is over late for us to fear losing the self-respect we parted with long ago. Rest contented—I will try."
"That is better. We are what ill-luck or the devil made us," replied Leslie, laying his hand on his wife's white shoulder, but in spite of her recent declaration Millicent shrank from his touch.
"Your fingers burn me. Take them away. As I said, I will help you, but if there was any faint hope of happiness or better things left us, you have killed it," she declared in a decided tone.
"I should say the chance was hardly worth counting on," answered Leslie, as he withdrew to soothe himself with a brandy-and-soda. Millicent sat still in her chair, with her hands clenched hard on the arms of it, staring straight before her.