"A man comes to see his wife, and she doesn’t offer him the tips of her
beautiful fingers! ’Pon my word, Lil, you look splendid when you stand
like that—and since you press me, I will take a whisky-and-soda and a
cigar just for luck."
She ignored the request and advancing a little nearer to him, repeated
the question:
"Why do you come to me? Was it not understood that you should not come;
was not that part of the bargain?"
He shrugged his shoulders, but his face flushed none the less.
"Bargain be d——d! I’m in a hole—nine thousand four hundred pounds with
Bothand and Co.—you remember them? I bought your emeralds there. Well,
they talk of fraud and all that sort of stuff. I’ll have to pay them,
Lil—it’s jail if I don’t."
She knew that it would be some story of this kind, and was relieved, it
may be, to find it no worse. His exaggerations had ceased to alarm her,
and she believed little of what he told her.
"You have had five thousand pounds from me in two years," she said
quietly. "I am now making you an allowance of a thousand a year. If
there is a duty in the matter, God knows I have done it. More I will
not, whatsoever the consequences—you know that I cannot; it is quite
impossible."
He nodded his head, and, failing the cigar, took a cigarette from his
case and lighted it.
"Why don’t you ask the old man?" he retorted. "I tell you, Lil, this is
business, and if I don’t pay in ten days’ time, there’ll be mischief.
You don’t mean to say you’d send me to prison for nine thousand
pounds—your beautiful father wouldn’t disgrace his daughter for a trifle
like that? I’ve been pretty considerate, I must say. It’s nearly a
year since I came to you, and then for twopence-halfpenny which I had to
beg on my knees. By ——, you’re becoming a Jew, my dear, a devilish
pretty little Jew—that’s what it is."
She turned from him with contempt.
"You have my answer," she said. "I will continue to pay you a thousand
a year while you leave me as I am. But I will not pay more, whatever
the consequences. That is final and irrevocable. If you come to me at
this hotel again, you shall never receive another penny. The
understanding was made, and I will have it kept. Have I not suffered
enough at your hands; is there to be no end to a woman’s patience? You
have ceased to be anything to me but a name—take care that I do not
forbid you even that right."
He smiled provokingly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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