"I thought we'd agreed that that was all over and done with long ago?"
"Well, you see, it hasn't anything to do with us. My father—"
"Don't let us go back to that."
"I'm sorry, but we must—a little. You know my father and I had a difference of opinion?"
"I know—I know."
"Well, in the end he owned that I was right. That was when he was dying."
He wished she would not look at him; for he could not look at her. He was endeavouring to make his tale appear in the last degree natural and convincing. Up till now he had told nothing but the truth, but as he was about to enter on the path of perjury he became embarrassed by the intentness of her gaze.
"You were with him?" she asked.
"Yes." He paused a moment to command a superior kind of calm. That pause wrecked him, for it gave her also time for thought. "He wanted either to pay you the money that you should have had, or to hand over the library; and I thought—"
"But the library was sold?"