"Why?" she lifted her head again, facing him with questioning eyes.
"Simply because his doing so will interfere seriously with some of my
business plans--that's all."
"Then why don't you act the part of a man, and go to him yourself?
Why, in this, do you prefer hiding behind the skirts of a woman?"
Farnham laughed grimly, in no way embarrassed by the query.
"Good Lord, Lizzie! I 've been to him, all right, but the fellow is
like a stubborn mule. He has n't got but one selling-out price, so far
as I can learn, and that chances to be Beth Norvell. You see the
point? Well, that's exactly why I came here to-night. I wanted to be
able to tender him the goods."
For a moment her eyes remained pitifully pleading; then they suddenly
appeared to harden into resolute defiance. As though moving in a
dream, she arose slowly to her feet, taking a single step away from him
toward the closed door.
"As I have already explained," she paused to say coldly, "Mr. Winston
is no more to me than any other gentleman whom I may have chanced to
meet in friendship. I have not the faintest reason to suppose I could
influence his decision in any matter appertaining to his professional
work. Moreover, I have not the slightest inclination to try."
"Do you dare refuse, in spite of all I can say to your injury?" he
asked, even then doubtful of her meaning.
"I definitely decline to be your catspaw,--yes. Nothing you can relate
truthfully will ever harm me in the estimation of a gentleman, and I
shall certainly know how to combat falsehood."
"Quite pretty. Injured innocence, I perceive, is to be the line of
defence. What! are you already going?"
"I am."
"Where?"
She turned again, standing erect, her face flushing, her hand upon the
latch of the door.
"If it is imperative that you know, I will tell you. I intend seeking
Mr. Winston, and informing him exactly who and what I am."
"Now? at this hour of the night?"
"Better now, and at this hour of the night, than venture waiting until
after you have had an inning. I am not at all ashamed to confess the
truth, if I can only be the first to tell my story."
She pressed the latch of the door, her breathing so rapid as to be
positively painful. With an ill-repressed oath, Farnham sprang to his
feet, his rising anger putting an end to all prudence.