"I've faced all that a thousand times, and answered it a thousand times. It can't move me now. You'd better go away, Grantley."
Again Blake rose; he did not lack physical courage.
"I'll go with you. I'm at your service," he said. "But outside; you shan't stay here."
He waited a moment for an answer, but, getting none, nor so much as a look, sank awkwardly into his seat again.
Grantley spoke to his wife.
"I know what happened. Before you did this, you fogged your mind with all sorts of fantastic ideas. You're not the woman to do this kind of thing easily."
"Fantastic ideas! Yes, they seem so to you. The fantastic idea of having something to live for, some life, something else than a prison, than repression, than coldness. I had lots of those fantastic ideas, Grantley."
"You had your child."
"I tell you I've faced it." She pressed her fingers hard into her cheek and frowned. "The child made it worse," she jerked out fiercely. "Seeing you with the child was——" She shook her head with a shiver.
Grantley raised his eyebrows.