“--He would be certain to offer a reward. And I guessed he wouldn't mind what he paid. So I thought I'd take the cat and hang on till he offered L500, or till I thought he'd be so glad to get the Rose back that he'd do what I want out of pure gratitude. Then I'd bring it back and get the money--say I'd found it, you see, and--and--wait a bit--for heaven's sake don't speak yet.” George saw his Mary was bursting with words; as he judged the look in her eyes they were words he had reason to fear. Shirking their hurt, he hurried along. “Don't speak yet. Get the money, and then we'd save up and pay him back and then tell him. There!” She burst out: “But, George--how _could_ you? Oh, it's wrong--it's _awful!_ Why, do you know what people would call you? They'd say you're a--yes, they'd say you're a--” He snatched the terrible word from her lips with a kiss. “They'd say I was a fool if I let Marrapit do me out of what is my own. That's the point, Mary. It's my money. I'm only trying to get what is my own. I felt all along you would see that; otherwise--” He hesitated. He was in difficulties. Manlike, he suddenly essayed to shoot the responsibility upon the woman. “--Otherwise I wouldn't have done it,” he ended. His Mary had the wit to slip from the net, to dig him a vital thrust with the trident: “If you thought that, why didn't you tell me?” The thrust staggered him; set him blustering: “Tell you! Tell you! How could I tell you? I did it on the spur of the moment.” “You could have written. Oh, Georgie, it's wrong. It _is_ wrong.” He took up the famous sex attack. “Wrong! Wrong! That's just like a woman to say that! You won't listen to reason. You jump at a thing and shut your eyes and your ears.” “I _will_ listen to reason. But you haven't _got_ any reason. If you had, why didn't you tell me before you did it?” He continued the sex assault; flung out a declamatory hand. “There you go! Why didn't I tell you? I've told you why. I tell you I did it on the spur of the moment--” But she still struggled. “Yes, that's just it. You didn't think. Now that you are thinking you must see it in its proper light. You _must_ see it's wrong.” “I don't. I don't in the least.” “Well, why are you getting in such a state about it?” “I'm not getting in a state!” “You are.” His Mary fumbled at her waist-belt. “You are. You're--saying--all sorts--of--things. You--said--I--was--just--like--a--woman.” Out came this preposterous Mary's pocket handkerchief; into it went Mary's little nose. George sprang to her. “Oh, Mary! Oh, I say, don't cry, old girl!” The nose came out for a minute, a very shiny little nose. “I can't help crying. This is an--an _awful_ business.” The shiny little nose disappeared again.