This was too much for Edward Cossey, who, as any man must, had been
much touched by this unexpected outburst. "Look here, Belle," he
blurted out on the impulse of the moment, "I am sick and tired of all
this sort of thing. For more than a year my life has been nothing but
a living lie, and I can't stand it, and that's a fact. I tell you what
it is: I think we had better just take the train to Paris and go off
at once, or else give it all up. It is impossible to go on living in
this atmosphere of continual falsehood."
She stopped crying. "Do you really care for me enough for that,
Edward?" she said.
"Yes, yes," he said, somewhat impatiently, "you can see I do or I
should not make the offer. Say the word and I'll do it."
She thought for a moment, and then looked up again. "No," she said,
"no, Edward."
"Why?" he asked. "Are you afraid?"
"Afraid!" she answered with a gesture of contempt, "what have I to be
afraid of? Do you suppose such women as I am have any care for
consequences? We have got beyond that--that is, for ourselves. But we
can still feel a little for others. It would ruin you to do such a
thing, socially and in every other way. You know you have often said
that your father would cut you out of his will if you compromised
yourself and him like that.
Pages:
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97