When she was calmer, he broke the silence by saying in an oddly-muffled, hoarse voice:—
"It is no use going on like this. I suppose you wish our engagement to be broken off?"
"I?" said Elizabeth.
"Yes, you. Can't I see that you care more for this man Stretton or Luttrell than you care for me? I don't want my wife to be always sighing after another man."
"That you would not have," she said, coldly.
"I don't care. I know now what you feel. And if Stretton comes back, I suppose I must go to the wall."
"I will keep my word to you if you like," said Elizabeth, after a moment's pause. She could not speak more graciously. "I did not think of breaking off the engagement: I thought that matter was decided."
"You called me mean and base just now, and you expect me to put up with it. You think me a low, selfish brute. I may be all that, and not want you to tell me so." Some of Percival's sense of humour—a little more grim than usual—was perceptible in the last few words.
"I am sorry if I told you so. I will not tell you so again."
"But you will feel it."