“You’ve found me out,” she said quietly, “I’m not one of the Guestwick girls.”
“I told you so,” he said a little impatiently.
“Don’t you want to know anything about me?” she demanded.
“Some other time,” he returned, “I’m busy now.”
“But what are you going to do?” she asked.
“I thought I told you. I’m going to see what Mr. Guestwick has which interests me. Then I shall get a bite to eat somewhere and go home to bed.”
“Are you going to take that fifty thousand dollars?” she demanded. Her tone was a tragic one.
“That’s what I came for,” he told her.
“You mustn’t, you mustn’t,” she declared and then fell to weeping bitterly.
Beauty in distress moved Anthony Trent even when his business most engrossed his attention. It was his nature to be considerate of women. When he had garnered enough money to buy himself a home he intended to marry and settle down to domestic joys. As to this weeping woman, there was little doubt in his mind as to the reason she was in the Guestwick home. Perhaps she noticed the harder look that came to his face.