Sibylla ran her eyes over it with indifference; first at the bill's head, to see whence it came, next at its sum total.
"What an old cheat! Eleven hundred pounds! I am sure I have not had the half."
Lionel pointed to the part "bill delivered." "Was that not paid in the spring?"
"How can I recollect?" returned Sibylla, speaking as carelessly as before.
"I think you may recollect if you try. I gave you a cheque for the amount."
"Oh, yes, I do recollect now. It has not been paid."
"But, my dear, I say I gave the cheque for it."
"I cashed the cheque myself. I wanted some money just then. You can't think how fast money goes in London, Lionel."
The avowal proved only what he suspected. Nevertheless it hurt him greatly—grieved him to his heart's core. Not so much the spending of the money, as the keeping the fact from him. What a lack of good feeling, of confidence, it proved.
He bent towards her, speaking gently, kindly. Whatever might be her faults to him, her provocations, he could never behave otherwise to her than as a thorough gentleman, a kind husband.