Free Taken at the Flood by Agatha Christie

swiftly:
    â€œOh, I know it is. I wouldn’t come to you if it wasn’t such a difficult sum to raise. But Jeremy would never have gone into the deal if it hadn’t been for Gordon’s backing. It’s so dreadfully unfortunate that Gordon should have died so suddenly—”
    â€œLeaving you all out in the cold?” David’s voice was unpleasant. “After a sheltered life under his wing.”
    There was a faint flash in Frances’ eyes as she said:
    â€œYou put things so picturesquely!”
    â€œRosaleen can’t touch the capital, you know. Only the income. And she pays about nineteen and six in the pound income tax.”
    â€œOh, I know. Taxation’s dreadful these days. But it could be managed, couldn’t it? We’d repay—”
    He interrupted:
    â€œIt could be managed. But it won’t be! ”
    Frances turned swiftly to Rosaleen.
    â€œRosaleen, you’re such a generous—”
    David’s voice cut across her speech.
    â€œWhat do you Cloades think Rosaleen is—a milch cow? All of you at her—hinting, asking, begging. And behind her back? Sneering at her, patronizing her, hating her, wishing her dead —”
    â€œThat’s not true,” Frances cried.
    â€œIsn’t it? I tell you I’m sick of you all! She’s sick of you all. You’ll get no money out of us, so you can stop coming and whining for it? Understand?”
    His face was black with fury.
    Frances stood up. Her face was wooden and expressionless. Shedrew on a washleather glove absently, yet with attention, as though it was a significant action.
    â€œYou make your meaning quite plain, David,” she said.
    Rosaleen murmured:
    â€œI’m sorry. I’m really sorry….”
    Frances paid no attention to her. Rosaleen might not have been in the room. She took a step towards the window and paused, facing David.
    â€œYou have said that I resent Rosaleen. That is not true. I have not resented Rosaleen—but I do resent— you! ”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    He scowled at her.
    â€œWomen must live. Rosaleen married a very rich man, years older than herself. Why not? But you! You must live on your sister, live on the fat of the land, live softly—on her. ”
    â€œI stand between her and harpies.”
    They stood looking at each other. He was aware of her anger and the thought flashed across him that Frances Cloade was a dangerous enemy, one who could be both unscrupulous and reckless.
    When she opened her mouth to speak, he even felt a moment’s apprehension. But what she said was singularly noncommittal.
    â€œI shall remember what you have said, David.”
    Passing him, she went out of the window.
    He wondered why he felt so strongly that the words had been a threat.
    Rosaleen was crying.
    â€œOh, David, David—you oughtn’t to have been saying those things to her. She’s the one of them that’s been the nicest to me.”
    He said furiously: “Shut up, you little fool. Do you want them to trample all over you and bleed you of every penny?”
    â€œBut the money—if—if it isn’t rightfully mine—”
    She quailed before his glance.
    â€œI—I didn’t mean that, David.”
    â€œI should hope not.”
    Conscience, he thought, was the devil!
    He hadn’t reckoned with the item of Rosaleen’s conscience. It was going to make things awkward in the future.
    The future? He frowned as he looked at her and let his thoughts race ahead. Rosaleen’s future…His own…He’d always known what he wanted…he knew now…But Rosaleen? What future was there for Rosaleen?
    As his face darkened—she cried out—suddenly shivering:
    â€œOh! Someone’s walking over my grave.”
    He said, looking at her curiously:
    â€œSo you realize it may come to that?”
    â€œWhat do you mean, David?”
    â€œI mean that