"Nothing," Davenant said, quickly, "nothing whatever."
"I didn't see how she _could_ have--" Guion was going on, when Davenant
interrupted.
"She has nothing to do with it whatever," he repeated. "I was only going
to say that I hoped she might have got through her wedding without
hearing anything about--all this--all this fuss."
In uttering the last words he had moved toward the door. His hand was on
the knob and he was about to make some repetition of his farewells when
Guion spoke again. He was leaning once more over the desk, his fingers
playing nervously with the pens and pencils. He made no further effort
to keep up his rôle of keen-sighted man of business. His head was bent,
so that Davenant could scarcely see his face, and when he spoke his
words were muffled and sullen.
"Half a million would be too much. Four hundred and fifty thousand would
cover everything."
"That would be all the same to me," Davenant said, in a matter-of-fact
tone.
But he went back to the desk and took his seat again.