" He lay back on the pillow.
"I can't help your being ill," she answered. "It's not my fault. And
if you're so ill and weak as all that, it seems to me the best thing
you can do is to be quiet and not to talk, especially about--about
that!"
"Well, perhaps you'll let me be the best judge of what I ought to
talk about. Anyhow, I'm going to talk about it, and you're going to
listen."
"I'm not."
"I say you're going to listen," he insisted, turning on his side
towards her. "And why not? Why, what on earth did I say last night,
after all, I should like to know?"
"You said you'd taken the other part of the money of Mrs.
Maldon's--that's what you said. You thought you were dying, and so you
told me."
"That's just what I want to explain. I'm going to explain it to you."
"No explanations for me, thanks!" she sneered, walking in the
direction of the hearth. "I'd sooner hear anything, anything, than
your explanations." She seemed to shudder.
He nerved himself.
"I tell you I _found_ that money," he cried, recommencing.
"Well, good-bye," she said, moving to the door. "You don't seem to
understand."
At the same moment there was a knock at the door.
"Come in, Mrs. Tarns," said Rachel calmly.
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