Without a second's hesitation or a moment's scruple, Romer intently listened. He did not hide or draw behind the curtain. He remained in full view, in the window, so that they could see him easily if they happened to look up. But they did not; they were far too much preoccupied.... He heard Harry speaking volubly, saying, in a tone of irritated apology and explanation—
"My dear girl, I do wish to heaven you wouldn't take it like that. I haven't changed—I never shall. I don't care two straws about Miss Walmer. But really, it is such a splendid chance for me! You ought no more to expect me to give it up than any other good business opportunity that might crop up."
"I should never see you again," she answered, her voice broken by sobs.
"Yes, you would. We should be the same as ever. You know we can't do without each other. You're part of my life."
He spoke casually, but with irritation, as if mentioning a self-evident fact.
"Oh yes, you say that," she answered sadly. "But nothing could alter the fact that you wish to be treacherous, and throw me over—and just for money! It's simply degrading. It's all nonsense to say it will be just the same!"
"Well, of course—for a time—immediately after the marriage—it couldn't be; but it would gradually drift into very much the same."
"It wouldn't, even if it could, because I should never see you again," she repeated.
Harry stood up with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders raised.
Romer could see his face quite plainly, and wondered at its hard, selfish, almost cruel expression.