“What did you pay?” he asked. His back was toward her.
“I paid—two hundred dollars,” she said. The words came lightly, and there was a little pause.
“No, I don’t think that was too much.” He had turned and was looking at her—straight. “I would have paid more than two hundred—to give it to you,” he said slowly.
She made no reply, but her eyes regarded him gravely over the edge of the collar. Wrapped in the coat, she seemed for a moment the woman of the alcove.
He looked at her blindly.
She returned the look a minute—and turned away slowly and went out.
Eldridge walked to the table and stood looking down.... He had given her, in all, not more than two hundred and fifty dollars. Did she expect him—to believe—that all the things that had come into the house since had not cost more than fifty dollars?
It was as if she flaunted it at him—as if she wanted him to know that it could not have been his money that bought it!... So that was it! She had seen—she had guessed the change in him—and this was her guard? She would force him to know—to accuse her.
Old Barstow’s words came to him mockingly: “No—she will not contest it. She wants—to be—free.”