A look of relief came over his face. “You poor child,” he said. “Is that all? Why didn’t you tell me?”
He put his hand into his coat pocket, and produced a bundle of notes. “This will do to go on with,” he said, laying down three five pound notes.
A look of fear came to Ena’s eyes, and a vague terror clutched her heart.
“Where did you get this money from?” she asked, shrinking from the notes as though they were poisoned.
“Oh, just a story I wrote for the magazines,” he said airily.
“What magazine? You never told me.”
“An American paper,” he answered, and then with sudden anger, “Do you think I stole it? If so, say so.”
“I can’t take them, Jack.”
“What nonsense! It was a little surprise I had for you. You would rather have smaller ones? All right, I’ll change them and give you pound notes.”
He picked them up, and strode from the room.