ii

Blanche flinched, and Patricia—stung to loyalty for one so helpless in face of the power to insult—felt a sudden outgoing of pity for her.

"You poor thing!" she cried vehemently. "You're suffering!"

"Oh, don't be sentimental!" cried Blanche, in a harsh, impatient voice. She jerked her head in pain. "I haven't come to chaffer, and I've got no use for your school-girl sympathy. Keep that for your own wounds. I'm dealing with real things, as Monty will discover in a minute. You, with your silly baby face, haven't the heart to understand. You.... But I'm forgetting. Monty won't like me to speak harshly to his promised bride. He'll——"

"I'm not!" shouted Patricia, suddenly out of control. "I wouldn't!" She was sparkling with temper; and yet remained staring at Blanche. Her feelings were in tumult—indignation in conflict with fear, and both with pity. "Nothing can keep me from being sorry for you," she said, "because you're unhappy. I don't like you. I don't like you. But I'm sorry for you."

"Well, that's very nice," drawled Blanche. "It's so nice for women to feel for one another."

"If you've not come for Patricia's pity, and not come to raise the thousand pounds, which, after all, is quite a generous sum—" began Monty.

"During all the time we've known each other, I've taken no money from you, Monty. D'you realise that? You couldn't realise it! It's not in your nature to realise it, because you're avaricious yourself, and find avariciousness.... Oh, God...." Blanche's voice dropped wearily. "Haven't I heard your views of money.... Don't I know you, Monty? How well I know you. Too well! No, I haven't come for money. I don't want it. I wouldn't take money——"

"But, my dear, you must," Monty said. He turned quickly, and came towards her, ignoring Patricia, whom he had forgotten. "It's the only thing I can give you. Look, I'll make it two thousand. I want to be generous——"

"Generous! My God!" whispered Patricia. She raised her hands in an unconscious gesture. Was it really thus that Monty—that such men—computed generosity? In guineas? She was distraught.

"But it's no good to think that you and I can go on," Monty was continuing. "We can't go on." Even here he was speaking slowly and deliberately, in that thick, sweet voice which was so seldom raised beyond quietness. "Our interest is gone. The whole thing's finished, you know."

Blanche looked at him, her face drawn, and her lips parted in a miserable smile.

"Finished, yes," she said. "You're tired of me. That I realise. I realised it long ago. Tant pis. But it isn't finished." She shook her head. "Five years ago I was tired of Fred. I met you. Now you're tired. But you've forgotten Fred."

"Fred!" exclaimed Monty. "What's he got to do with it?" His voice was suddenly coarse with cruelty. "He doesn't count. It's nothing to do with him."

"That's why I came," said Blanche, very low. "All this time Fred's been wondering why I didn't care for him...."

"Look here, Blanche," said Monty, quietly. "It's no good to threaten me. You know that!"

"I'm not threatening you, my dear," returned Blanche, with a shudder. "But it seems that Fred's found a little girl he wants to marry."

"Fred!" cried Monty. He seemed astounded. Behind his air of surprise his thoughts moved with the speed of lightning. "What d'you mean?"

"Just that. You see, he's had me watched," answered Blanche. "He says he's got all he needs. So I've brought you back your money. He's vengeful, Monty. He'll go for damages."