Pemberton's reply to this revelation was
that unless they immediately put down something on account he would leave
them on the spot and for ever. He knew she would wonder how he would get
away, and for a moment expected her to enquire. She didn't, for which he
was almost grateful to her, so little was he in a position to tell.
"You won't, you _know_ you won't--you're too interested," she said. "You
are interested, you know you are, you dear kind man!" She laughed with
almost condemnatory archness, as if it were a reproach--though she
wouldn't insist; and flirted a soiled pocket-handkerchief at him.
Pemberton's mind was fully made up to take his step the following week.
This would give him time to get an answer to a letter he had despatched
to England. If he did in the event nothing of the sort--that is if he
stayed another year and then went away only for three months--it was not
merely because before the answer to his letter came (most unsatisfactory
when it did arrive) Mr. Moreen generously counted out to him, and again
with the sacrifice to "form" of a marked man of the world, three hundred
francs in elegant ringing gold.
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