Tamea’s glance went past his ear and rested on Sooey Wan standing in the doorway, a large red lacquered box in his arms. She shook her head at him ever so slightly and like a yellow wraith he faded back into the hall.
“Ruined?” Tamea queried. “Has my lord, then, parted with his honor?”
“No, no, not that,” he cried brokenly. “Nobody will think that of me. I will pay, but it will take all I have to do it, and when they have finished with me I shall have nothing left wherewith to make a new start. But never mind, Tamea. I’m not whipped. Just dazed, not down for the count. I’ll come back.”
He could feel the little chuckle of mirth that rippled through the lithe body pressed so close against him. “So?” she declared with her golden little laugh, “it is only a matter of money. And yet my lord is shaken like a coco-palm in the monsoon. Silly, silly white man. He does not know that I have money and that all of it is his.” She drew his head around and kissed him on the lips; he trembled with the knowledge of her tremendous sweetness. “You will take my money and let me see you smile again, Dan Pritchard,” she commanded.
“No, no, darling. I couldn’t do that—ever. Please do not ask me to.”
“But why, dear one?”
“Then indeed would I be parting with my honor.”
“What madness! Is it because I am not your wife? Well, we will be married quickly and then——”
“No,” he protested. “I tell you it is impossible. I’ll never be able to repay the debt of your asking me to take your money, but—I shall never, never take one penny of it. I couldn’t.”
“But after we are married——”