Fleetwood had made
some money for her--yes, about thirty thousand dollars. She had
repaid what he had lent her, and there had been no further
transactions of the kind between them. But it appeared that Gregg,
before his dismissal, had got hold of an old check-book which gave a
hint of the story, and had pieced the rest together with the help of
a clerk in Fleetwood's office. The "Spy" was in possession of the
facts, but did not mean to use them if Fleetwood was not
reappointed, the Lead Trust having no personal grudge against
Mornway.
Her story ended there, and she sat silent while he continued to look
at her. So much had perished in the wreck of his faith that he did
not attach much value to what remained. It scarcely mattered that he
believed her when the truth was so sordid. There had been, after
all, nothing to envy him for but what Mrs. Nimick had seen; the core
of his life was as mean and miserable as his sister's. . . .
His wife rose at length, pale but still calm. She had a kind of
external dignity which she wore like one of her rich dresses.
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