back or burst
my heart in working for you? Besides, t'wouldn't 'a' bin that. What
was it but the loss of the office--a step back that I'd soon 'a'
recovered."

He groaned; then suddenly he unclasped his hands and brandished them.
The rhythmic beat of his rage came strong and high, and with savage
energy he seized her again.

"It's half lies still. The money? How does that match? He gave it to
you. Deny it if you dare."

"Yes, I tried not to take it. He forced it on me."

"Lies! It was the bit for yourself when you drove your
bargain--nothing to do with me--you--you. The price of your two or
three nights of love."

"No, I swear. He forced the money as a present. The price he paid was
his help to you. As God hears me, that's the truth."

Then, answering more and more questions, she resumed her story.

After Dale's departure she went over to North Ride, thinking that Mr.
Barradine was at the Abbey, and that he would come to her at the
Cottage. She sent a letter inviting him to do so. There was no answer
for four days. Then Mr. Barradine wrote to her from London; and she
went up on Friday afternoon, and saw him at Grosvenor Place. "He said
he'd engaged rooms for me at an hotel, and I was to go there; and I
went there."

"What hotel?"

"The Sunderland Hotel--Alderney Street."

"Go on."

"I waited in the rooms."

"Rooms! You mean one room, you slut!"

"No, there were four rooms--a grand suite."

"Go on."

"He said he would come to me next day, or Sunday at latest. And he
didn't come on Saturday--I stopped indoors all day, afraid to go out
for fear of meeting you--and he didn't come till Sunday, after lunch."

"Ah! How long did he stay?"

"Till early this morning. Will, let me be--I'm done. You're throttling
me."

"Go on. I'll 'aarve it all out of you. Begin at the beginning. It's
Sunday afternoon we're talking of--ever since lunch time. There's a
many hours to amuse yourselves."

"After dinner he made me dress up."

"What d'you mean?"

"He had brought things in his luggage--fancy dress."

"What dresses?"

"Oh, boy's things--things he'd bought in Turkey, on his travels. He
made me act that I was his page--and bring the coffee, and sit
cross-legged on the ground."

"Go on."

"No--what's the use?" She was crying now. "Oh, God have mercy, what's
the use?"

"Go on."

"No. Kill me, if you want to, and be done with it. I don't care--I'm
tired out. What I've gone through was worse than death.