'No,' she answered, her face flaming scarlet; for pride had conquered pain. She hated him. Oh, how she hated him and the hideous dress which in her foolish dream--when, hearing him at the door, she had looked for something very different--she had hurriedly put on; and the loose tangle of hair which she had dragged with trembling fingers from its club so that it now hung sluttishly over her ear. She longed, as she had never longed before, to confront him in all her beauty; to be able to say to him, 'Choose where you will, can you buy form or face like this?' Instead she stood before him, prisoned in this shapeless dress, a slattern, a drab, a thing whereat to curl the lip. 'Well, I am sorry she is not here,' he resumed. 'It would have given a--a kind of legality to the offer,' he continued with an easy laugh. 'To tell you the truth, the amount was not fixed by me, but by my friend, Dr. Addington, who interested himself in your behalf. He thought that an allowance of a hundred guineas a year, child, properly secured, would place you in comfort, and--and obviate all this,' with a negligent wave of the hand that took in the garden and the half-scoured stone, 'at the same time,' he added, 'that it would not be unworthy of the donor.' And he bowed, smiling. 'A hundred guineas?' she said slowly. 'A year?' 'Yes.' 'Properly secured?' 'To be sure, child.' 'On your word?' with a sudden glance at him. 'Of course, I could not ask better security! Surely, sir, there's but one thing to be said. 'Tis too generous, too handsome!' 'Tut-tut!' he answered, wondering at her way of taking it. 'Far too handsome--seeing that I have no claim on you, Sir George, and have only put you to great expense.' 'Pooh! Pooh!' 'And--trouble. A vast deal of trouble,' she repeated in an odd tone of raillery, while her eyes, grown hard and mocking, raked him mercilessly. 'So much for so little! I could not--I could not accept it. A hundred guineas a year, Sir George, from one in your position to one in mine, would only lay me open to the tongue of slander. You had better say--fifty.' 'Oh, no!' 'Or--thirty, I am sure thirty were ample! Say thirty guineas a year, dear sir; and leave me my character.' 'Nonsense,' he answered, a trifle discomfited. Strange, she was seizing her old position. The weapon he had wrought for her punishment was being turned against himself. 'Or, I don't know that thirty is not too much!' she continued, her eyes unnaturally bright, her voice keen as a razor.' 'Twould have been enough if offered through your lawyers. But at your own mouth, Sir George, ten shillings a week should do, and handsomely! Which reminds me--it was a kind thought to come yourself to see me; I wonder why you did.' 'Well,' he said, 'to be frank, it was Dr. Addington--'