Geoff promptly dropped the whine in which he had previously spoken, becoming suddenly and wonderfully buoyant.
“Oh! a few hundreds. I'll spend them well, and I'll agree not to bother you again until your money gets here. I'll hang about quietly until it comes, then you can fix me up and I will bolt the place. Now I call that fair—and you would better”—he grew strangely sinister—“you would better do as I ask or you may get let in for more than the mere loss of cash.”
“I will go to Russell and learn what can be spared.”
“The old cat!”
Margaret left the room. In the hall she encountered Perkins.
“I was coming to find you,” he said. “It's nearly dinner-time and dark as the deuce. I say,” in surprise, “is anything the matter?”
For Madame Dennie's face was more than unusually pale—more than unusually sad.
“Where are you going, Ballard?”
“Into the library. That is I was going there, but if you don't mind, I'll just go along with you.”
“Instead will you do me a service?”