McTaggart nodded his head gravely.
"It sounds bigger than I imagined." He felt a half-ashamed surprise at these depths in a woman he deemed light.
And, as if in answer to his thought, the old mocking look returned to the painted lips that smiled at him. But scorn was in her half-veiled eyes. For Fantine knew the ways of men: the forfeit that her class must pay—to be used and loved and set aside as a thing of nought when custom staled.
She felt a keen stab of revolt, a fierce desire to extort to the full her share of the bargain, blow for blow, to prey on the weaknesses she served.
And McTaggart's next careless remark sealed his fate as far as it lay in the hands of the shrewd adventuress, turning the scales against the man.
"I didn't know you read so much. How on earth do you find the time?"
The speech, innocently meant, stung the wound in her heart.
But she gave him a daring glance.
"Mon cher—I am alone ... sometimes!"
"You wouldn't be if I had my way." He checked himself as the waiter poured the fragrant coffee into their cups.