"You are mixing up two things that are absolutely distinct."
"No. I'm only refusing to be mixed up with them."
"But you are mixed up with them."
He laughed at that shot, as a brave man laughs at a hurt.
"You needn't remind me of that. I meant—any more than I can help; though it may seem to you that I haven't very much lower to sink."
"Believe me, I don't associate you with this wretched business. I want you to forget it."
"I can't forget it. If I could, it would only be by refusing to degrade myself further in connection with it."
His words were clumsy and wild as the hasty terrified movements of a naked soul, trying to gather round it the last rags of decency and honour.
"There is no connection," she added, more gently than ever, seeing how she hurt him. "Don't you see that it lies between you and me?"
He saw that as she spoke she was curling the cheque into a convenient form for slipping into his hand in the moment of leave-taking.