"You should have thought of all that before."
He took out a cigar and lit it, then turned his chair half-way round from the table, and began to read his paper again. Christine could not bear it; she began to sob softly. He took no visible notice of her; his eyes were fixed on a paragraph and he was reading it over and over again, not following in the least what it meant. She rose and walked towards the door; he remained motionless. She came back towards him in a hesitating way.
"I want to speak to you," she said, choking down her sobs and regaining composure.
He looked up now. There was fear in his eyes, a hunted look which went to her heart. At the least invitation she would have thrown herself on her knees by him and sought every means to comfort him. She was thinking only of him now, and had forgotten Caylesham's gay attractiveness. And in face of that look in his eyes she could not say a word about Caylesham's money.
"I'm going away for a little while, John. I'm going to ask Sibylla to let me come down to Milldean for a bit."
"What do you want to go away for?"
"A change of air," she answered, smiling derisively. "I can't bear this, you know. It's intolerable—and it's absurd."
"Am I to blame for it?"
"I'm not talking about who's to blame. But I must go away."
"How long do you want to stay away?"