Part 35 (2/2)
”Why not?”
”Eh?”
”Why not? Why not? Can't you tell me?”
”But--”
”Why not? Why not? Answer!”
”Is it possible?”
”Is what possible?”
”You don't know the house you're in?”
”What house?” she asked wildly.
The look of terror, of fear, which accompanied this question was enough to dissipate any doubts of the girl's honesty which may have lingered in the man's mind.
”How long have you been here?”
”Three hours.”
”And you don't know what Mrs Hamilton is?”
”No.”
”What?” he cried excitedly.
”Tell me! Tell me!”
”Just tell me how you met her.”
She told him in short words; she was reluctant to make a confidant of the man who had ravished her lips; she was dimly conscious that he may have had a remote excuse for his behaviour. When she had done, he said:
”Mrs Hamilton is one of the worst women in London. She'd have been 'run in' long ago if she weren't so rich and if her clients weren't so influential.”
Mavis looked at him wide-eyed.
”That chap at dinner, didn't, you know he was Lord Kegworth? If you don't, you must have heard of the rotten life he's led.”
”But--” stammered Mavis.
”Have you seen any photographs since you've been here?”
”Just now--these.”
<script>