"Then why did you come here? Why are you here now?" She had not expected such courage from him, and almost thought more of him now than she had ever thought before. "How dare you come to this house at all?"
"Perhaps I should not have come."
"And I am nothing to you?" she asked in her most plaintive accents. "After all those scenes at Manor Cross you can think of me
with indifference?" There had been no scenes, and as she spoke he shook his head, intending to disclaim them. "Then go!" How was he to go? Was he to wake Mr. Houghton? Was he to disturb that other loving couple? Was he to say no word of farewell to her? "Oh, stay," she added,
"and unsay it all—unsay it all and give no reason, and it shall be as though it were never said." Then she seized him by the arm and looked passionately up into his eyes. Mr. Houghton moved restlessly in his chair and coughed aloud. "He'll be off again in half a moment," said Mrs. Houghton. Then he was silent, and she was silent, looking at him. And he heard a word or two come clearly from the back drawing-room. "You will, Jack; won't you, dear Jack?"
The ridicule of the thing touched even him. "I think I had better go," he said.
"Then go!"
"Good-night, Mrs. Houghton."
"I will not say good-night. I will never speak to you again. You are not worth speaking to. You are false. I knew that men could be false, but not so false as you. Even that young fellow in there has some heart. He loves your—darling wife, and will be true to his love." She was a very devil in her wickedness. He started as though he had been stung, and rushed inside for his hat. "Halloa, Germain, are you going?" said the man of the house, rousing himself for the moment.
"Yes, I am going. Where did I leave my hat?"