"You mean—?" But she knew what he meant, had suspected it for months. Also, she knew why he had borrowed, or made free, with the money. Simply to give her what she asked for in cars, furs, and jewels. The thing had been done at a time when a certain mine was promising brilliantly. The mine was still promising, but not so brilliantly.
The incident, along with Lancaster's mental suffering and futile efforts to right himself, would make a story by itself.
"You are shocked, Carlotta?" he murmured shamefacedly, appealingly.
"Naturally!" But anger was the emotion she strove to suppress.
"I have paid bitterly in worry," he said, and there was a pause.
"You can hold on yet awhile?" she asked at last.
"Oh, yes, I think so. The danger is always there, but I'm not greatly pressed for money otherwise." Not "greatly" pressed, poor soul! "It's a case of conscience, you know," he stammered. "The thought of discovery is always with me, too."
"No thought, I presume, of your wife and daughter!"
"Carlotta!"
"Oh, Robert, what a blind fool you are! Why not have asked Christopher for the money, even if it had involved a confession? He would not see us ruined—Doris, at all events."