“And I don’t see why you should begin now,” he answered.
“But, Percy, I want to go. Only for a few minutes.”
“I’d much rather you didn’t.”
Bertha thought this tyrannical. She had promised Nigel, because he had implied to her that it would get him out of the domestic difficulty.
“Oh, do, Percy dear. It’s treating me as if you didn’t trust me. After all … if you like I’ll swear to arrange never to see Nigel again.”
“I wish you would.”
“It’s only because I think it would look marked.”
Percy thought there was something in that, and he didn’t dislike the idea of proving to the person, whoever it was, that had written the letters, how little effect they had had. Yet, they had left a tinge of jealousy that would easily be roused again, especially at her insistence. He noticed that she didn’t make the fact that she was chaperoning Madeline an excuse, as most women would have done. She was frank about it. Still, he tried once more.
“I don’t want you to go.”
“But I want to.”