He came towards her eagerly. "Tell me what they are," he stuttered. "Anything ... anything money will buy! You have only to name it!"
"I can't take gifts from you," said Pen coldly. "I've earned this money, haven't I? You promised it."
"I don't go back on my promises," he muttered.
"Well then?"
"But just at the moment I haven't it by me."
Pen thought: "It's all over!" And tasted despair.
He went on more glibly: "One's money gets all tied up you know. And I've been under heavy expenses. Of course I can arrange it when I get back to town. I'll bring it to you myself. Just as soon as I can get this ugly business off my hands. It won't take long. Popular opinion demands that the man be tried speedily. And I can set certain influences at work. I fancy the trial will be brief. In six weeks you can expect to see me back again.... And under much happier circumstances I trust. I'm afraid at present you have certain doubts of me. Almost a dislike. This has been such a beastly business! When I come back my whole aim will be to remove your doubts. To show you what I really am. And what you mean to me. Thank God! time is on my side!"
Pen kept her eyes down to hide the thought she was sure must be speaking through them: "If you came back here under such circumstances I should kill you!"
Her stillness frightened him. He began to hedge. "But what am I saying? You don't have to wait for your money till I come back. It is a matter I can arrange with my bankers. You may expect a check within a week."
Pen was not deceived of course. She foresaw the silky, apologetic letter she would receive at the end of a week—without any check. She was silent.