He’ll give me till to-morrow to replace them, but I can’t. It’s impossible. And he knows I can’t. Damned hypocrite! I shouldn’t complain if I’d been beaten fairly; but it’s so childish. And just when I’d got the reins in my hand. He can’t countenance dishonesty. It’s childish. I always distrusted him. Sanctimonious prig! He’s jealous of me. He wants to kick me off my perch, so that he can take my place. And I know him. I know him inside out. He’ll do what he says. [With angry scorn.] It’s his duty.
Catherine.
Can’t we sell things? There’s my jewellery.
George Winter.
A drop in the ocean. How can I get eighty thousand pounds in a falling market.
Catherine.
[Horrified.] D’you mean to say they’ll arrest you?
George Winter.
[With a dull roar, like a wild beast at bay.] No. D’you think I’m going to stand that, and a trial, and—and all the rest?
Catherine.