“But I want to speak of it,” he insisted. “And I want you to speak of it in plain language. You needn’t be afraid of wounding me. Was it because of my connection with him in that railroad business?”
He saw her face flush. Her hand twitched at her belt. “I never liked him,” she said. “I told you that.”
“Oh!” he cried, impatiently, “this isn’t a question of your liking him or disliking him. You dislike a good many people.” She looked at him reproachfully. “You know perfectly well you do, even if you don’t say so. Don’t you suppose I can tell?” He felt suddenly ashamed, and he checked himself. “Excuse me, Helen,” he said. “I didn’t mean to be disagreeable; but I want you to be open with me in this matter. What’s your reason for saying you’d leave here if he came to stay?”
“Don’t, Douglas!” Helen’s eyes filled with tears. “Please don’t ask me. It’s better that you shouldn’t. I’ve tried, oh, I’ve——”
“There is a reason, then,” he declared, with grim triumph. “Now, I’m going to find out what it is,” he added, with determination.
She sank helplessly to the couch. He leaned forward and kept his eyes fixed on her. “Well,” he said, “I’m waiting.”
“The last time he was at our house in Washington he—he insulted me.”
Briggs started back, as if someone had aimed a blow at him. “He insulted you?” he cried, incredulously. “This must be some fancy of yours. West is the most courteous, the most suave—he’s too suave. What did he say?”
“He said that he was in love with me, he said that he’d been in love with me for years. He said that was why he’d helped you so much. When I tried to call the servants he said they were his servants, in his pay, that you were in his pay—” Helen dropped her head on the couch. Her lips trembled.
Her husband looked at her, dazed. “The scoundrel!” he exclaimed, under his breath.