"Been lunching out?" he inquired.
She nodded.
"At Prince's, with Wingrave."
He made no remark, but he seemed far from displeased.
"If I'd only had the pluck," he remarked a little disconsolately, "I
might have made thousands by following his advice this week. It was
you who put me off, too!"
"It turned out all right?" she asked.
"Exactly as he said. I made five hundred! I might just as well have
made five thousand."
"Can you let me have a couple of hundred?" she asked. "The people are
all bothering so."
"You know that I can't," he answered irritably. "I had to send the lot
to Lewis, and then it wasn't a quarter of what he is pressing for. We
shall never get through the season, Ruth, unless--"
She raised her eyes.
"Unless what?"
"Unless something turns up!"
There was a short, uncomfortable silence. Lady Ruth rose to her feet
and stood facing the fireplace with her back to him.
"Lumley," she said, "let's face it!"
He gave a little start.
"Face what?" he inquired.
"Ruin, the Bankruptcy Court, and all the rest of it!" she declared, a
note of defiance creeping into her tone.
Her husband's face was white with astonishment. He stared across at
her blankly.
"Are you mad, Ruth?" he exclaimed. "Do you know what you are saying?"
"Quite well," she answered. "I'm a little sick of the whole show. The
tradespeople are getting impertinent. I don't even know where to get
flowers for dinner tonight or where to go for my Ascot gowns.
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