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She sensed that he was looking for her. She had asked to borrow his pencil out of dire necessity. For the present, he murmured his farewells, and turning, caught Hilary’s eye and walked away, crossing the ballroom to move into the less opulent, and less crowded, saloon next door where servants were dispensing refreshments. "I was only commenting. Gosse would have killed me, and perhaps in the fight I might kill him. And why, after all, should she not borrow money from Ramage? It was so true what he said; middle-class people WERE ridiculously squeamish about money. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. He had an air of having told her a deep, personal secret.
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