The ugly word prison sent a stab through her heart; but immediately afterwards the common-sense of her Gale ancestry told her either that he was lying, or, if it were true, that he deserved it. She asked coldly:
“What have you been doing?”
“I can’t tell you,” he said. “You must trust me.”
“But I don’t and that is why I can’t lend you two hundred pounds.”
“You refuse?”
His soft voice became a snarl and his lip curled unpleasantly back beneath the little silky moustache.
“Of course I do.”
“I don’t know how you dare, after all the encouragement you’ve given me.”
She stared at him aghast. “Encouragement?”
“Yes. Didn’t you make me dance attendance on you at Brighton? Haven’t you brought me here over and over again? You’ve behaved damnably to me. You’ve made me waste my time. I’ve turned other women who would have only been too glad——”