His anger this time got the better of him. He scowled, and looked at her from the corners of his eyes. “You had better not exasperate me,” he said in a suppressed voice. “Oh,” said she, “you must suffer me to be the mistress of my own actions in my own house. Now—if you are quite ready to go?” she suggested, putting her hand upon the bell-cord. “I’m not ready to go yet. I want to talk with you. To cut a long business short, you’re rich. I’m pitiably poor. You know how poor I am. You know how I have to live, the hardships, the privations I’m obliged to put up with.” “Have you come here to beg?” Johannah asked. “No, I’ve come to appeal to your good-nature. You refuse to marry me. That’s absurd of you, but—tant pis! Whether you marry me or not, you haven’t the heart to leave me to rot in poverty, while you luxuriate in plenty. Considering our oldtime relations, the thing’s impossible on the face of it.” “Ah, I understand. You have come here to beg,” she said. “No,” said he. “One begs when one has no power to enforce.” “What is the use of these glittering aphorisms?” she asked wearily. “If you are ready to behave well to me, I’ll behave handsomely to you. But if you refuse to recognise my claims upon you, I’m in a position to take reprisals,” he said very quietly. Johannah did not answer. “I’m miserably, tragically poor; you’re rich. At this moment I’ve not got ten pounds in the world; and I owe hundreds. I’ve not sold a picture since March. You have eight thousand a year. You can’t expect me to sit down under it in silence. As the French attorneys phrase it, cet état de choses ne peut pas durer.” Still Johannah answered nothing. “You must come to my relief,” said he. “You must make it possible for me to go on. If you have any right feeling, you’ll do it spontaneously. If not—you know I can compel you.” “Oh, then, for goodness’ sake, compel me, and so make an end of this entirely tedious visit,” she broke out. “I’d immensely rather not compel you. If you will lend me a helping hand from time to time, I’ll promise never to take a step to harm you. I shall be moderate. You’ve got eight thousand a year. You’d never miss a hundred now and then. You might simply occasionally buy a picture. That would be the best way. You might buy my pictures.” “I should be glad to know definitely,” remarked Johannah, “whether I have to deal with a blackmailer or a bagman.” “Damn you,” he exploded, with sudden savagery, flushing very red indeed. Johannah was silent. After a pause, he said, “I’m staying at the inn in the village—at the Silver Arms.” Johannah did not speak. “I’ve already scraped acquaintance with the parson,” he went on. Then, as she still was silent, “I wonder what would become of your social position in this County if I should have a good long talk about you with the parson.” “To a man of your intelligence, the solution of that problem can surely present no difficulty,” she replied wearily.