“Sit down, dear. Really, Barbara, you are a most impulsive person. There’s nothing so dreadful in what I tell you—it may be an indiscretion, of course, but many men do it.”
“Not men like Dick,” said Barbara—she spoke with an effort.
“My dear child, notwithstanding your quixotic views with regard to that husband of yours, you must accept facts. Dick signed a document which is called a post obit, in which he promised to pay back the capital of ten thousand pounds to Dr. Tarbot whenever he came in for the Pelham estates.”
“When did he sign the document?” asked Barbara.
“On the day the loan was made to me.”
Lady Pelham walked to the window and stood there looking out. Everything seemed dim and strange. She had a queer singing in her ears. She could hear nothing for a moment but this tempestuous noise. She turned and faced her mother.
“I am going out, mother,” she said.
“But it is so late, dear, and you have only just come in.”
“I must go.”
“Where?”