"Well, then," I protested rather feebly, hating to hurt her, "you must allow that his behaviour to that man Farrell was a bit beyond the limit. Of course, if you can forgive it—well, I don't know. It's odious to me to be talking like this about the man to whom you're attached—the man I used to worship. And for me, who still would lose a hand, cheerfully, now as ever, to spare you pain! … My dear girl, let's talk of something else."
"No, we will not," said Constantia firmly. "I came to talk about this, and I will.… Of course I know it was wrong of Jack to pursue Mr. Farrell as he did. You remember my telling you I was worried, that day we talked about him after my return from the States? At that time I imagined he was allowing himself for a bribe to be friends again with this man, and it distressed me; because— well, women have their code, you know, as well as men, and—and I may confess to you now that, even at that time, I had begun to take an interest—"
"I see," said I dully, resting my arm along the chimney-piece and staring down into the grate, where Jephson had lit a small fire: for the day, though bright, was chilly.
"You assured me, you remember, that Jack was above any such meanness; and so far you relieved me, for I saw you were telling the truth. But," she continued, "I saw also that it wasn't the whole truth: that you were hiding something. So I went away puzzled. Afterwards, I got the truth out of Jimmy Collingwood."
"Well?" I prompted her, as she paused.
"Well, it was shocking of Jack, I admit. But, after all, this Mr. Farrell had ruined his life, and—of course I don't quite understand men and their code—but isn't it a trifle uncharitable of you, Roddy, not to allow that the shock may have unhinged his mind for a time?… No, I'm playing the humbug in my turn, and I'll own up. It was wicked, if you will: but it was great in its way, and determined… and women, you know, always fall slaves to that sort of thing. It was straightforward, too: Jimmy said Jack had given his man fair warning. Jimmy—but you know that boy's way—gave me the impression that he didn't condemn Jack's craze as unsportsmanlike: merely for being, as he put it, a thought bloodthirstier than any line of sport he himself felt any inclination to follow. 'But I'm no judge, Con,' he added—I remember his words—'for the simple reason that I never had a career to be ruined.'… Well, for the rest, Jack says he came straight to you as soon as he set foot back in England, and told you the whole story.—That's so, I guess?" Constantia, in her agitation, relapsed into her mother's idiom.
I nodded, bending my head still lower over the high chimney-shelf, still staring down into the fire.
"Then you know," she said; "and I do call it rather dull of you, Roddy—not to say insensate—and unlike you, anyway.… When, at the end, he turned and behaved so finely, nursing this man through his last illness.…"
I tell you, it was lucky that I still kept my face turned sideways, still staring down on the fire.… It took me like a mental nausea, and all my thought for the moment was to hold steady under it. I felt my fingers gripping hard on the ledge and holding to it, as the waves went over my poor brain. Through the surge of them confusedly I heard her voice pleading: and yet her voice was calm, well under control. It must have been the waves in my own head that broke her speech into short sentences.
"You were his friend… his best friend… mine, too, Roddy. You took it so well, just now… I do want—"