"I'm a poor man's wife, and can't do the things my friends do. It's not
because Ralph loves me that he wants me back--it's simply because he
can't afford to let me stay!"
Van Degen's perturbation was increasing. "But you mustn't go--it's
preposterous! Why should a woman like you be sacrificed when a lot of
dreary frumps have everything they want? Besides, you can't chuck me
like this! Why, we're all to motor down to Aix next week, and perhaps
take a dip into Italy--"
"OH, ITALY--" she murmured on a note of yearning.
He was closer now, and had her hands. "You'd love that, wouldn't you?
As far as Venice, anyhow; and then in August there's Trouville--you've
never tried Trouville? There's an awfully jolly crowd there--and the
motoring's ripping in Normandy. If you say so I'll take a villa there
instead of going back to Newport. And I'll put the Sorceress in
commission, and you can make up parties and run off whenever you like,
to Scotland or Norway--" He hung above her. "Don't dine with Chelles
to-night! Come with me, and we'll talk things over; and next week we'll
run down to Trouville to choose the villa."
Undine's heart was beating fast, but she felt within her a strange lucid
force of resistance. Because of that sense of security she left her
hands in Van Degen's. So Mr. Spragg might have felt at the tensest hour
of the Pure Water move. She leaned forward, holding her suitor off by
the pressure of her bent-back palms.
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