He hasn't lent money
out of friendship. He hates me--always has done, and sometimes I
wonder whether he doesn't hate you too!"
Lady Ruth shivered a little. Her husband's words came to her with
peculiar brutality. It was as though he were blaming her for not
having proved more attractive to the man who held them in the hollow
of his hand.
"Doesn't it strike you," she murmured, "that a discussion like this is
scarcely in the best possible taste? We cannot surmise what he
wants--what he is going to do. Let us wait!"
The door opened and Wingrave entered. To Barrington, who greeted him
with nervous cordiality, he presented the same cold, impenetrable
appearance; Lady Ruth, with quicker perceptions, noticed at once the
change. She sat up in her chair eagerly. It was what she had prayed
for, this--but was it for good or evil? Her eyes sought his eagerly.
So much depended upon his first few words.
Wingrave closed the door behind him. His greetings were laconic as
usual. He addressed Lady Ruth.
"I find myself obliged," he said, "to take a journey which may
possibly be a somewhat protracted one. I wished, before I left, to see
you and your husband. I sent for you together, but I wish to speak to
you separately--to your husband first. You have often expressed a
desire to see over my house, Lady Ruth. My major domo is outside. Will
you forgive me if I send you away for a few minutes?"
Lady Ruth rose slowly to her feet.
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