Lumsden swallowed his humiliation, but it didn't go down very far.
"I beg your pardon. Will that do? There was some excuse for me, you know. You let me help you once before."
"Not with money."
He wasn't in a mood to be very delicate. "Wasn't it?" he said with a short laugh. "Never mind, then."
"Why do you laugh that funny way?" said Fenella, with unexpected spirit. "You must tell me now. Did you have to pay Dollfus to take me?"
"Dear ingénue! Do you mean to say you've never suspected it? You don't think Dollfus is in business for hygienic reasons, do you?"
"Much money?" she persisted.
"Oh, ask Joe," said Lumsden, rather wearily. "He's on the telephone."
Fenella beat her palms against the side of the chair. "I've been a fool," she went on, in a fierce soliloquy, "a little, credulous donkey. No wonder that girl thought me a fraud! And yet—I believed you all believed in me. Do you think I'd ever have let you—unless I felt sure? Oh! you must know it."
"My dear child, be content. You carry conviction. I acquit you from this moment of everything unmaidenly, generosity included."