“In the drawing-room, please.”
A faint tremor passed through her, but she led the way, and seated herself where she could see Betty and the baby. Rosek stood looking down at her; his stillness, the sweetish gravity of his well-cut lips, his spotless dandyism stirred in Gyp a kind of unwilling admiration.
“What is it?” she said.
“Bad business, I'm afraid. Something must be done at once. I have been trying to arrange things, but they will not wait. They are even threatening to sell up this house.”
With a sense of outrage, Gyp cried:
“Nearly everything here is mine.”
Rosek shook his head.
“The lease is in his name—you are his wife. They can do it, I assure you.” A sort of shadow passed over his face, and he added: “I cannot help him any more—just now.”
Gyp shook her head quickly.
“No—of course! You ought not to have helped him at all. I can't bear—” He bowed, and she stopped, ashamed. “How much does he owe altogether?”