“Yes, but that’s—” she covered her face with her hands—“that’s what makes it so terrible.”
“Of course it makes it terrible; but it isn’t as terrible now as it was—to you anyhow.”
“But why do you withdraw when—when you love him—and he loves you––?”
“I do it because I want to throw all the cards on the table. It’s what my common sense has been telling me to do all along, only I’ve never worked round to it till we had our talk this afternoon. Now I see––”
“What do you see, Miss Walbrook?”
“I see that we’ve got to give him a clean sheet, or he’ll never know where he is. He can’t decide between us because he’s in an impossible position. We’ll have to set him absolutely free, so that he may begin again. I’ll do it on my side. You can do—what you like.”
She went as abruptly as she came, leaving Letty clearer than ever as to her new course.
By midnight she was ready. In the back spare room she waited only to be sure that all in the house were asleep.
She had heard Allerton come in about half past nine, and the whispering of voices told that Steptoe was making his explanations, that she was out of sorts, had dined in her room, and begged not to be disturbed. At about half past ten she heard the prince go upstairs to his own room, though she fancied that outside her door he had paused for a second to listen. That was the culminating minute of her self-repression. Once it was over, and he had gone on his way, she knew the rest would be easier.