"Why should I? You know the rest of it."
"Nevertheless, I wish you would say it."
"Very well. Mr. Hartly is an agent of Mr. Peterborough."
"And Mr. Peterborough?"
"My solicitor."
"You mean your father's?"
"Yes, and mine, too."
"Then you have property of your own?"
"Yes. You did not know it?"
"I heard of it yesterday. Your property is no concern of mine, you
understand." She was silent. Under the circumstances the statement was
significant. "Mr. Hartly came to my father the other day," he went on.
Still no answer. "Possibly you knew it?" he persisted. She lifted her
eyes which had been fixed on the cover of a book that her fingers were
toying with, and said:--
"Yes."
Stephen waited to choose words which should not express too forcibly the
impetuous feeling that shone in his eyes and rang in his voice when he
spoke.
"Let me put a case to you," he said, "or, rather, not an indifferent
case, but our own, and hear how it sounds in plain English. How we were
married, if married we are, it is useless to speak of; how absolutely
nothing we are to one another it is unnecessary also to say. I
appreciate your efforts and your courtesy when I see so plainly that it
is with difficulty you can bring yourself even to speak a word to me."
Elizabeth glanced up a moment, and down again, and her fingers went on
idly turning the leaves of the book.
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