Farnham laughed grimly, in no way embarrassed by the query.
"Good Lord, Lizzie! I 've been to him, all right, but the fellow is like a stubborn mule. He has n't got but one selling-out price, so far as I can learn, and that chances to be Beth Norvell. You see the point? Well, that's exactly why I came here to-night. I wanted to be able to tender him the goods."
For a moment her eyes remained pitifully pleading; then they suddenly appeared to harden into resolute defiance. As though moving in a dream, she arose slowly to her feet, taking a single step away from him toward the closed door.
"As I have already explained," she paused to say coldly, "Mr. Winston is no more to me than any other gentleman whom I may have chanced to meet in friendship. I have not the faintest reason to suppose I could influence his decision in any matter appertaining to his professional work. Moreover, I have not the slightest inclination to try."
"Do you dare refuse, in spite of all I can say to your injury?" he asked, even then doubtful of her meaning.
"I definitely decline to be your catspaw,—yes. Nothing you can relate truthfully will ever harm me in the estimation of a gentleman, and I shall certainly know how to combat falsehood."
"Quite pretty. Injured innocence, I perceive, is to be the line of defence. What! are you already going?"
"I am."
"Where?"
She turned again, standing erect, her face flushing, her hand upon the latch of the door.