She swept upstairs again, and I accompanied her in silence.
"Now, perhaps," she remarked, "you'll be good enough to tell me the truth."
I told her a part of it, including the visit of my Hebraic friend, but I omitted his suggestions of the matrimonial objects of my visits. Miss Prentice's proceedings, I suggested, were all due to her regard for the conventionalities and her niece's welfare.
"Of course," she began, sitting down and taking a chequebook from a drawer, "you'll let me lend you this money."
"Thank you very much," I said, "but it's quite out of the question."
"How preposterous!" she exclaimed, in astonishment. "If a man were to offer you the money——"
"Very likely," I said; "you are not a man."
"But what difference in the world can that make?" she inquired, indignantly.
"In the world," I said, "it makes a considerable difference."
"But we've been friends, Mr. Arbuthnot," she said, appealingly, "and this is my fault. Won't you take this wretched money to please me?"