"Indeed I have. It seems that any blackguard has a right to publish any lies that he likes about any one in any of the newspapers, and that nobody can do anything to protect himself! Sometimes I have thought that it would drive me mad!"
But he again perceived that he was getting out of the right course in thus dwelling upon his own injuries. He had come there to alleviate her misfortunes, not to talk about his own.
"It is no good, however, talking about all that; is it, Margaret?"
"It will cease now, will it not?"
"I cannot say. I fear not. Whichever way I turn, they abuse me for what I do. What business is it of theirs?"
"You mean their absurd story—calling you a lion."
"Don't talk of it, Margaret."
Then Margaret was again silent. She by no means wished to talk of the story, if he would only leave it alone.
"And now about you."
Then he came and sat beside her, and she put her hand back behind the cushion on the sofa so as to save herself from trembling in his presence. She need not have cared much, for, let her tremble ever so much, he had then no capacity for perceiving it.