“Will you have some tea?”
Mrs. Pendyce smiled a pale little smile.
“No, thank you; I don't think I could drink any tea.”
“I wrote a letter to your husband.”
“Yes.”
“He didn't answer it.”
“No.”
Mrs. Pendyce saw him staring at her, and a desperate struggle began within her. Should she not ask him to keep his promise, now that George——? Was not that what she had come for? Ought she not—ought she not for all their sakes?
Bellew went up to the table, poured out some whisky, and drank it off.
“You don't ask me to stop the proceedings,” he said.