I might write there, but I'd lose time and money.

"None of the Makimmons have been good business
men; we are not distrustful. I sent the cheque
to the address he said, made out to him for the
Standard Hardware Company, so that he would get
the commission, the credit of the sale." He drew
a deep breath, gazing across the moonlit fields.
"The Makimmons are not distrustful," he reiterated;
"he robbed me of all my savings."

His lie would have fared badly with Pompey Hollidew,
he thought grimly; it was unconvincing,
wordy; he was conscious that his assumed emotion
rang thinly. But its calculated effect was instantaneous,
beyond all his hopes, his plan.

Lettice leaned close to him with a sobbing inspiration
of sympathy and pity. "How terrible!" she
cried in low tones; "you were so noble--" He
breathed heavily once more. "What a wicked,
wicked man. Couldn't you get anything back?
did it all go?"

"All." His hand fell upon hers, and neither of
them appeared to notice its pressure. Her face was
close to his, a tear gleamed on her young, moon-blanched
cheek. A sudden impatience seized him
at her credulity, a contempt at the ease with which
she was victimized; the effort was almost without
spice. Still his grasp tightened upon her hand, drew
it toward him. "In Greenstream," he continued,

[[121]]

p120 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p121w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p122

v?