"What's it got to do with you, eh?" he asked brutally. Then suddenly the hot blood surged in a crimson wave to the roots of his hair as he read the passionate anxiety of her eyes.
"Oh, so that's it, is it?" he asked thickly. He dragged himself free of her, his savage eyes wandering over her expensive clothes. "Well, I might have known," he said. "Women are all the same. It's always the chap with the money—no matter if he's a wrong 'un or not."
He went off down the road, deaf to her when she called his name, and Peg went back to her mother with a trembling heart.
There was some plot afoot to injure Forrester, she was sure. She questioned her stepfather, but he would admit nothing, and her mother was evidently too afraid to say anything, even if she had the knowledge.
Peg went back to Hampstead, sick with fear, though she tried hard to conquer it.
Ben would never be so foolish. She knew he was wild, but even he would surely hesitate at violence. It seemed an eternity until she heard Forrester's key in the door that evening.
He was home earlier than he had expected, he said, as she went to meet him. He looked round—"Where is Faith?"
"She went out with Mr. Digby to lunch. They haven't come back yet."
She saw the little frown that crossed Forrester's face, but he made no comment as he turned towards his study.