"I wish I could think so; but if it is, no doubt the man may have the courage of his conscience, and then there will be nothing to prevent him from trying to live it down in London. I should not care for that sort of thing myself. I confess I depend too much on other people's opinions."
"It would be a terrible fight to live it down in London—terrible, both for him and his friends."
"Ah," said Graham, quickly, "it is a good thing that he has nobody in particular depending on him, no specially intimate friends that we are aware of."
Clara looked steadily at the wall for two or three minutes, whilst her husband finished his breakfast.
"I wrote to Lettice last night," she said at last, "but, of course, I knew nothing of this business then."
"I am very glad you did not. What on earth put Lettice into your head? She has no conceivable interest in this miserable affair."
"I think it is rather too much to say that she has no interest at all. We know that she was interested in him."
"We know that he is a married man."
Graham's tone was growing a little savage, as it did sometimes, especially with his wife, whom he very sincerely loved. But Clara did not heed the warning note.
"Facts are facts, and we should not ignore them. I am sure they like each other, and his misfortune will be a great grief to her."