“If I had wanted it known all over Low Heath,” said he, “I could hardly have done better than tell you to keep it a secret. I’d much sooner he had not known. However—where is he?”
“In your study, I think.”
I felt constrained to follow. Crofter evidently was expecting to be the recipient of an outburst of effusive gratitude. I had not the courage to disabuse him.
He walked pleasantly and graciously into his study, where Tempest stood, flushing and biting his lips, awaiting him. “Is this true what that youngster says, that you’ve had the—that you’ve paid bills of mine?”
“I’m sorry he told you, Tempest. I thought it might get you out of a difficulty, and I—”
“And you expect me to thank you! Take that, for daring to meddle in my affairs!”
And he struck Crofter on the cheek—not a hard blow, but one which sent the recipient reeling across the room with astonishment.
For a moment I expected a fight. Crofter, however, pale, but smiling still, declined the challenge.
“You’ll be sorry, I’m sure,” said he, as coolly as he could. “I only wanted to do you a good turn, and—”
“I’m sorry already,” said Tempest, who had already gathered himself together. “I hoped you’d fight like a man. As you’re afraid to, I’m sorry I touched you.”