"Bessie," he said at last gently—"have you nothing to say to me?"
She did not look at him; she strove hard to keep her voice steady. "How long will it take us to get back?" she asked.
"To get back?" He looked at her quickly.
"To England. Don't you see for yourself how utterly helpless I am?" she demanded passionately, with a note in her voice he had not heard before. "I am a prisoner here; I cannot stir hand or foot to get away from you. Put me on shore—anywhere—and I will walk, if necessary, to get back to London."
"This is rank madness!" he exclaimed. "For Heaven's sake, Bessie, be reasonable, and let us face the situation fairly and squarely. What harm have I done you?"
"What harm?" She faced him suddenly, with her hands clenched, and with eyes that yet had the tears in them blazing at him. "What harm? Don't you understand—or won't you understand—that in all my life no one has ever been able to say that I didn't fight my own way—for myself and others; no one has been able to say that even in my poor fashion I didn't hold up my head—proud to think that I had never looked to anyone for a shilling. And you—you of all men on earth—have been"—she turned away her head, with the swift colour mounting in her face—"you have kept me!"
"Bessie!"
"It's true!" she flashed at him. "You've lied to me in everything—fed me with smooth words, just as you've fed me and the others with food you paid for. The clothes I wear have been bought with your money—and I would rather stand naked before you than have to say it."
"I tell you you don't understand," he pleaded. "It was done for your sake—and for your sake only. I was rich—and I saw a chance to help you, a mere child, and to bring some light and joy into your life. It was nothing to me; and you had longed, naturally enough, for things far beyond your reach. I tell you I was glad to do it."
"I understand perfectly," she said, standing close to him, and looking at him fearlessly. "I was a toy—something that amused you—a child you were sorry for. You didn't see that behind the child was the woman, who could be shamed and outraged and hurt; you never thought of that. It pleased you to spend money—because money was nothing to you, and was the easiest thing you had to part with. And then, to crown it all—the bitterest blow of all—you lied to me, and told me that you loved me."