"It is," she said curtly. "The money has been paid back."
"Paid back!" Understanding burst upon him. "You paid it?"
He stood up. He knew that resentment flickered in her—a fine, dangerous resentment against him because he had dragged so simple and obvious a thing out of its insignificance. But his own anger was like a mad, runaway horse, rushing him to destruction.
"It was stupid of him not to have come to me in the first place," she said, with an effort. "He should have known——"
He broke in fiercely.
"You can't—can't go like that."
"I must. If they had left an address—but, of course, they haven't. I'll have to track them down. It won't be so difficult." A spark of gaiety lit up her serious eyes. "I'll find Gertie lying on her back in the Sistine Chapel. She'll scorn the mirrors."
"You can't leave your work like that."
"The hospital people have been awfully decent about it."
"You told them——?"