'There is only one word for what I feel about it,' Vincy said, as he gave it back. 'I'm gormed! Simply gormed! Gormed, Edith dear, is really the only word.'
'I'm not jealous,' said Edith. 'My last trouble with Bruce seems to have cured me of any feeling of the kind. But I have a sort of pity and affection for him still in a way—almost like a mother! I'm really afraid he will be miserable with her, and then he'll feel tied to her and be wretched all his life. So I'm giving him a chance.'
He looked at her with admiring sympathy.
'But what about other friends?'
'Well—oh, you know—'
'Edith, I'm awfully sorry; I wish I'd married her now, then she wouldn't have bothered about Bruce.'
'But you can't stand her, Vincy.'
'I know, Edith dear; but I'd marry any number of people to prevent anything tiresome for you. And Aylmer, of course—Edith, really, I think Aylmer ought to go away; I'm sure he ought. It is a mistake to let him stay here under these circumstances.'
'Why?' said Edith. 'I don't see that; if I were going to take Bruce at his word, then it would be different, of course.'
'It does seem a pity not to, in some ways; everything would be all nicely settled up, just like the fourth act of a play. And then I should be glad I hadn't married Mavis… Oh, do let it be like the fourth act, Edith.'