She held out her hand, he took it, said good-bye, and opened the door for her. He knew what she wanted to speak about, and he knew also that his cold, ironical air intimidated her. Often his shyness made him seem so frigid that unintentionally he frightened people, and, having discovered this, he was able when occasion arose to assume the same manner.
“You haven’t forgotten what you promised?” she said at last, as he held open the door.
“What is that?”
“About the money.”
“How much d’you want?”
He spoke with an icy deliberation which made his words peculiarly offensive. Mildred flushed. He knew she hated him at that moment, and he wondered at the self-control by which she prevented herself from flying out at him. He wanted to make her suffer.
“There’s the dress and the book tomorrow. That’s all. Harry won’t come, so we shan’t want money for that.”
Philip’s heart gave a great thud against his ribs, and he let the door handle go. The door swung to.
“Why not?”
“He says we couldn’t, not on your money.”