Claire turned round, to behold Cecil standing at the end of the dining-table, her bare hands clasping its rim. She was so white that her lips looked of a startling redness; her eyes met Claire with a defiant hardness.
“I want you to lend me five pounds now!”
Claire’s anxiety was swallowed in a rising of irritation which brought an edge of coldness into her voice.
“Five pounds! What for? Cecil, I have never spoken of it, I have never worried you, but I’ve already paid—”
“I know! I know! I’ll pay you back. But I must have this to-night, and I’ve nowhere else to go. It’s important. I would lend it to you, Claire, if it were in my power.”
“Cecil, I hate to refuse, but really—I need my money! Just now I need it particularly. I can’t afford to go on lending. I’m dreadfully sorry, but—”
“Claire, please! I implore you, just this one time! I’ll pay you back... There’s my insurance policy—I can raise something on that. For pity’s sake, Claire, help me this time!”
Claire rose silently and went upstairs. It was not in her to refuse such a request while a five-pound note lay in her desk upstairs. She slipped the crackling paper into an envelope, and carried it down to the parlour. Cecil took it without a word, and went back into the night.
When she had gone, Claire gathered her papers together in a neat little heap, ranged them in a corner of the bureau, and seated herself on a stiff-backed chair at the end of the table. She looked as if she were mounted on a seat of justice, and the position suited her frame of mind. She felt angry and ill-used. Cecil had no right to borrow money from a fellow-worker! The money in the bank was dwindling rapidly; the ten guineas for Sophie would make another big hole. She did not grudge that—she was eager and ready to give it for so good a cause; but what was Cecil doing with these repeated loans? To judge from appearances, she was rather poorer than richer during the last few months, while bills for her new clothes came in again and again, and received no settlement. An obstinate look settled on Claire’s face. She determined to have this thing out.
In ten minutes’ time Cecil was back again, still white, still defiant, meeting Claire’s glance with a shrug, seating herself at the opposite end of the table with an air of callous indifference to what should come next.