His hands were clasped upon the
handle of his stick.
"All that you tell me," he remarked coldly, "might equally well have
been said in London! I do not wish to seem inhospitable, but I am
still waiting to know why you have taken an eight hours' journey to
recite a few fairly obvious truths. Your relations with your husband,
frankly, do not interest me. The deductions which society may have
drawn concerning our friendship need scarcely trouble you, under the
circumstances."
Then again the light was blazing in her eyes.
"Under the circumstances!" she repeated. "I know what you mean. It is
true that you have asked for nothing. It is true that all this time
you have never spoken a single word which all the world might not
hear, you have never even touched my fingers, except as a matter of
formality. Once I was the woman you loved--and I--well you know! Is
this part of your scheme of torture, to play with me as though we were
marionettes, you and I, with sawdust in our veins, dull, lifeless
puppets! Well, it is finished--your vengeance! You may reap the
harvest when you will! Publish my letters, prove yourself an injured
man. Take a whip in your hand if you like, and I will never flinch.
But, for heaven's sake, remember that I am a woman! I am willing to be
your slave, nurse you, wait upon you, follow you about! What more can
your vengeance need? You have made me despise my husband, you have
made me hate my life with him! You have forced me into a remembrance
of what I have never really forgotten--and oh! Wingrave," she added,
opening her arms to him with a little sob, "if you send me away, I
think that I shall kill myself.
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