A fresh terror shot out of her eyes, and again she sought to hide it under a towering anger. "What impudent nonsense is this?"
Jack went on imperturbably: "It is brought to you by a messenger in cash every Friday morning, and every Friday afternoon you carry it to the bank."
"You have been spying on me! And you talk about being my friend?"
"I do wish to be your friend. It is true I have been spying on you, as you call it. I was forced to it by my duty to an older friend. Are you going to answer my question?"
"Certainly not! What right have you to question me about my private affairs! A paid secretary! This is what I get for admitting you to my friendship!"
"To lose your temper and to insult me puts you in the worst possible light, you know. That is how a guilty conscience always acts."
"It's nothing to me what you think of me. You can go."
"I am not going," Jack said quietly. "You and I have got to have this out."
She had now worked herself up to a fine pitch of anger. She laughed, but there was little amusement in the sound. "I've got to have it out with you, have I? With you! Oh, this is rich! This is the perfection of impudence! Will you go, or must I call a servant to show you the door?"
She sprang up as she spoke, and her hand approached the bell button. Gone was her listlessness now.