“Is this any use?” she asked.
Oliver stood up. He could not bear the hardness of her voice.
“Mabel, my darling—-”
For an instant her lips shook; then again she looked at him with eyes of ice.
“I don’t want that,” she said. “It is of no use. Then you did sign it?”
Oliver had a sense of miserable desperation as he looked back at her. He would infinitely have preferred that she had stormed and wept.
“Mabel—-” he cried again.
“Then you did sign it?”
“I did sign it,” he said at last.
She turned and went towards the door. He sprang after her.