"It was not right to use that cheque, Sibylla. It was made out in Madame Lebeau's name, and should have been paid to her. But why did you not tell me?"
Sibylla shrugged her shoulders in place of answer. She had picked up many such little national habits of Mademoiselle Benoite's. Very conspicuous just then was the upright line on Lionel's brow.
"The amount altogether is, you perceive, eleven hundred pounds," he continued.
"Yes," said Sibylla. "She's a cheat, that Madame Lebeau. I shall make Benoite write her a French letter, and tell her so."
"It must be paid. But it is a great deal of money. I cannot continue to pay these large sums, Sibylla. I have not the money to do it with."
"Not the money! When you know you are paying heaps for Lady Verner! Before you tell me not to spend, you should cease supplying her."
Lionel's very brow flushed. "My mother has a claim upon me only in a degree less than you have," he gravely said. "Part of the revenues of Verner's Pride ought to have been hers years ago; and they were not."
"If my husband had lived—if he had left me a little child—Verner's Pride would have been his and mine, and never yours at all."
"Hush, Sibylla! You don't know how these allusions hurt me," he interrupted, in a tone of intense pain.
"They are true," said Sibylla.