"Don't be a little fool." The sharp tone was like the touch of a whip. "Why don't you do as you are told?"
She had not the strength to resent the command even if she was able to muster the power to resist it.
"Look here," he said, confronted by a limit to patience. "Why have you come? What's the matter with you? Tell me."
She remained mute. There was nothing she could tell. A lodging for the night, food, advice, protection were what she sought. Dominated completely as she was by hard necessity, she yet dare not confide in Keller. The subtle change that had come upon him since he had fixed up the screen and poured out the whisky filled her with an intense longing to get away. In spite of a growing weakness, which now threatened dire collapse, the subtle feelers of her mind were on the track of danger.
With a slow gathering of will that was a form of agony, she tried to collect the force to rise from the perilous comfort of the low wicker chair. But she was not able to rouse herself to action before the effort had been nipped by his next remark.
"If you've no intention of sitting to me, you'd better say in two words why you've come here."
The voice was no longer smooth; there was a cutting edge to it, lacerating to June's ear.
"I wanted you to lend me a sovereign."
It was the literal truth. But the unguarded words slipped from her before she could shape or control them. Almost before they were uttered she realized their bitter unwisdom.
"You can have a sovereign—if that's all you want."
