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In his tenderness there was something different, something inflexible.

"My darling," he said again.

"That means…?"

"I am going to ask you to let me stop that cheque."


"Fortunately it is Sunday. We have the day before us. I am going up by the two-o'clock. I've sent my bag down to the station. I've already been on to my lawyer by telephone and he will see me at his private house this afternoon. In my opinion we have nothing at all to fear. The King's Proctor will not move on such evidence as she has to offer, she has overreached herself. We ought to have her in gaol by tomorrow night."

"In gaol!"

"That is where she should be. She frightened you… she shall go to gaol for it. Margaret, will you write to your bankers… let me write…"

"No!" she said again.

"Sweetheart!" and he caressed her.

"No. Gabriel, listen to me. I am overwhelmed because I broke my promise to you, was not candid. But though I am overwhelmed and unhappy…"

"I will not let you be unhappy…"

She brushed that aside and went on:

"I am not sorry for what I have done. There