“But I couldn't! He would find out...”
“Then I must act, that's all. Or no—I give you another chance—tell him of the fifty pounds I sent—that may disarm him in another way—”
He was sure that this she would not now do, yet felt relieved when she cried out: “I couldn't! Not now! Can't you see?”
“Well, there is nothing to be done, then. I must act, that's all”.
“But don't be hard! What can I do? Sooner or later he'd be sure to miss them!”
“Poh! he is not always shooting, I suppose? And after a few weeks I'd give them back. Anyway, think it over: and I'll be here on Tuesday night next at nine to receive them. Good night—”
She looked palely after him, her feet in a net, new to her, woven of concealments and deceit.
At eleven that night she was sitting in their diminutive parlour,—Hogarth at a table inscribing the association's names received by post that evening; and at last, bending low over her sewing, she said: “Richard, is it true you have been to the Hall?”
He started! “Yes. Who told you?”
“I heard it”.