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Fancying they were alone, Sir Rowland threw aside his cloak, and produced a heavy bag of money, which he flung upon the table; and, when Wild had feasted his greedy eyes sufficiently upon its golden contents, he handed him a pocketbook filled with notes. He had been gone entirely one day, for yesterday afternoon he had departed from Remenham House, and she had waited with patience like a saint, and now it was again the afternoon. “Is Larry already in bed?” Cathy nodded yes. But he has never been near her—never. Neither of them believed me. He forgot Annabel’s idle attempts at love-making, all the cul-de-sac gallantry of the moment.
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