There was a brief silence. The intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear that had kept her silent was crystallizing into a very tangible conviction. Marshall had expressed more than the mere desire to be revenged on North, she saw that he was swayed by the mastering emotion of fear, rather than by his blazing hate of the suspected man. Slowly but surely there came to her an understanding of his swift descent during the last months.
"Marsh—" she began, and hesitated.
A scarcely articulate snarl from Langham seemed to encourage her to go on.
"Marsh, where does the money come from that you—that we—have been spending so lavishly this winter?"
"From my practice," he said, but his face was averted.
She gave a frightened laugh.
"Oh, no, Marsh, I know better than that!"
He swung about on her.
"Well," he stormed, "what do you know?"
"Hush, Marsh!" she implored, in sudden terror of him.