mitted he did not know what he was. Devil take him!
There must have been something electrical in Cutty's resentment, for the object of it felt it subtly, and it fired his own. He resented the freedom of action that had always been denied him, resented his host's mental and physical superiority. Did Cutty care for the girl, or was he playing the game as it had been suggested to him? Money and freedom. But then, it was in no sense a barter; she would be giving nothing, and the old beggar would be asking nothing. His suggestion! He laughed.
"What's the joke?" asked Cutty, looking up from his coffee, which he was stirring with unnecessary vigour.
"It isn't a joke. I'm bally well twisted. I laugh now when I think of something tragic. I am sorry about last night. I was mad, I suppose."
"Tell me about it."
Cutty listened intently and smiled occasionally. Mad as hatters, both of them. He and Kitty couldn't have gone on a romp like this, but Kitty and Hawksley could. Thereupon his resentment boiled up again.
"Have you any idea why she took such a risk? Why she came here, knowing me to be absent?"
"She spoke of a problem. I fancy it related to your approaching marriage. She told me."
Cutty laid down his spoon. "I'd like to dump
