er thought we should see him swanking it in the papers, or I'd never
have had a word to say to Claude. I wouldn't really. Only Charley
getting married to the other girl----'

It struck Rodd like a blow in the face. Kitty did not mark the effect
of her story, and was not concerned with it. All she felt was relief
in the telling.

'I wanted money to send mother out of England. I couldn't stand it any
more. If it hadn't been for her there wouldn't have been Claude, and a
girl at the theatre can have a good time on her own nowadays even with
a kiddie. I've often wanted to tell you.'

'Does she know?'

'Charley's girl? Yes. She knows. It's a nice mix-up. Isn't it? And
Charley's not bad. He'll just lose you same as he would his hat. No
offence meant.'

She laughed hysterically.

'Who gave you the money?'

'A swell.'

'To keep your mouth shut?'

'Yes. Charley would have to go to prison. Claude's been in prison.
That's why he'd like Charley to go. Everybody who's been to prison is
like that. It makes them sly and hard.... But I say that Charley's
paid: six hundred. I'd never have got that out of him if I'd stayed
with him, would I?'

'I suppose not.... If there's any more trouble will you come to me?'

'I'd love to,' she said, perking up and casting at him the sorrowful
languishing glances with which she had pursued him for so long.
'Claude says he's pushed her on so quick and he ought to have done the
same for me.... Claude was at their wedding. I didn't know him then.
He's a friend of mother's. We thought he had money but he hasn't got a
bean.'

'I'll deal with Claude,' said Rodd. 'And if there is any more trouble,
mind you come to me.'

'It was all after my baby died,' said Kitty, as if to excuse herself,
but Rodd had accepted the story, and had no thought of excuse or
forgiveness. His thought was all for Clara.

How comic it was that he should have given her Mann's book! Did she
love Mann? She must have done. She could not have married him
else.... But then what was Verschoyle to her, that he should have paid
so large a sum in hush-money? A furious jealousy swept away what was
left of Rodd's intellectual world and released at last his passions.
His mind worked swiftly through the story, picking it up in time with
every thread.

Was she only an actress? Was the perfection which he had worshipped a
figment, a projection of herself in the character most pleasing to his
idea