He looked at her harder. “You mean you really don’t know?”
“But know what?”
“Why, what’s the matter with it. You didn’t see, all the while?”
She only continued, however, to stare. “How could you see—out in the street?”
“I saw before I went out. It was because I saw that I did go out. I didn’t want to have another scene with you, before that rascal, and I judged you would presently guess for yourself.”
“Is he a rascal?” Charlotte asked. “His price is so moderate.” She waited but a moment. “Five pounds. Really so little.”
“Five pounds?”
He continued to look at her. “Five pounds.”
He might have been doubting her word, but he was only, it appeared, gathering emphasis. “It would be dear—to make a gift of—at five shillings. If it had cost you even but five pence I wouldn’t take it from you.”
“Then,” she asked, “what IS the matter?”