“But would you really come back?” asked the woman, after a pause.
The stout man put his big hand upon hers and, looking into her eyes, said, “I swear it. We’ve been in tight corners before, Freda. Surely you can trust me in this—eh? It means big money for both of us, and no further worry for you.”
“I don’t know that I can trust you, Gordon,” the woman said, looking him straight in the face.
“Bah! you’re jealous of the girl!” And he laughed. “She’s only a slip of a thing who doesn’t count.”
“But you’ve taken a fancy to her.”
“I have, and I mean to marry her. Nothing can prevent that.”
“I could,” snapped the woman.
“Yes. But you won’t, my dear Freda. If you did—well, you’d forgo all the money that will very soon be yours.”
“Arthur stands in with us.”
“Well, I suppose we shall have to give him a little bit. But he’ll have to be satisfied with a few hundreds.”