"On the contrary," I answered gravely, "I accord with you."
"Then you admit my duty. I should stand aside?"
"Ay—but first be sure, my friend! You love your wife; she may love you."
"I am sure that she does not. But you? It is time, Hugh, that you answered me."
I stood up and put a hand on his shoulder. "I love with all my strength another woman," I said slowly. "And just as sure I am that I love her am I that she loves me. Are you answered?"
He stared at me, and in the moment that my eyes held his, his face grew dull and grey. "My poor Helen," he muttered, "I had hoped to help her to her happiness."
"At—any cost?" I demanded.
"Yes, yes," he said.
"Death?"
"I would have welcomed it," he groaned, and turning, he went slowly from the room. He walked like an old, old man. I had never admired him so little, nor liked and pitied him so much. Straightway I wrote a note to Lady Helen and, going out, posted it myself. It contained only these three words: "It is time." I could trust a woman of her proven cleverness to understand.