"It couldn't very well come to anything else."
She looked up at him gravely, realizing for the first time, through her own sorrow, the precise nature and the consequences of his action. He had burnt his ships, parted with his means of livelihood, in a Quixotic endeavour to serve her interests, and redeem his own honour.
"Forgive my asking, but for the present this leaves you stranded?"
"It leaves me free."
She rose. "I know what that means. You won't mind my paying my debts at once, instead of later?"
He stared stupidly, as if her words had stunned him. She was seated at her writing table, and had begun filling in a cheque before he completely grasped the horrible significance of what she had said.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I'm writing thirty instead of fifteen, because that is what you ought to have asked for in the beginning. You see I am more business-like now than I was then."
He smiled.
"And do you really suppose I am going to take it?"