"A hundred and fifty—no, two hundred. And I can't possibly pay it for months and months."
By this time Honor had crossed to the chest of drawers near her bed and had taken out a small japanned cash-box. Evelyn watched her movements with ecstatic enlightenment.
"Honor—what are you going to do?" she asked breathlessly.
But the girl neither answered nor turned her head. She took out a small sheaf of notes, locked the cash-box, and put it away. Then taking an envelope from her rack, she sealed and addressed it, while Evelyn leaned against the dressing-table, white and speechless from the shock of relief.
"The whole amount is in there," Honor said, handing her the envelope, and speaking in a repressed voice. "Luckily I had hardly touched my month's money. This makes you free to do as Theo wishes. I don't want a penny of it back—ever. And Theo is never to know anything about the whole transaction. Promise me that; and don't dare to break your word."
"I promise faithfully. Oh, Honor, you are my good angel! Shall I take it now—at once?"
"No. Not you. I must go myself. It ought to be delivered to him in person, and I must have a stamped receipt."
"Honor, how horrid! Just as if he were a shop! Besides—nobody but me can give it—or explain——"
"How can you explain? What will you say?"