Henry Thresk looked up from his plate aghast.
"Do you mean to say, Mr. Hazlewood, that after Mrs. Ballantyne has told her story you mean to make that story public?"
Mr. Hazlewood stared in amazement at Henry Thresk.
"But of course," he said.
"Oh, you can't be thinking of it!"
"But I am. I must do it. There is so much at stake," replied Hazlewood.
"What?"
"The whole consistency of my life. I must make it clear that I am not acting upon prejudice or suspicion or fear of what the world will say or for any of the conventional reasons which might guide other men."
To Thresk this point of view was horrible; and there was no arguing against it. It was inspired by the dreadful vanity of a narrow, shallow nature, and Thresk's experience had never shown him anything more difficult to combat and overcome.
"So for the sake of your reputation for consistency you will make a very unhappy woman bear shame and obloquy which she might easily be spared? You could find a thousand excuses for breaking off the marriage."