"Oh, yes, she had. She knew who I was. She knew all I knew about you, because I told her. Three years! And in the meantime, I suppose…"
It occurred to Martin Drake, quite accurately, that Jenny must feel about Ruth Callice much as he felt about Richard Fleet He must stop this nonsense. But such talk is contagious.
"If it comes to that why didn't you get in touch with me and tell me yourself?"
Jenny's pale complexion was flushed, and she was trembling.
"Because you thought it was just a casual adventure. Oh, yes, you did! Or else you'd have found me — somehow. You had to come to me, don't you see? Won't anybody leave me a little pride? Please let me go."
"Jenny, listen to reason! You know how I feel, don't you?"
"Yes. I think so."
Jenny's resistance fell away. It was trivial, a brushing of the wing in those fierce whispers. The hands of the clock on the far wall stood at a quarter past twelve; the morning's auction would soon be over. And yet in the state of mind of these two, all unintentionally they were precipitating tragedy and disaster which moved closer as steadily as the ticking of the clock. "And now," she said, "you've been invited to Fleet House," "Ruth and Stannard can go there. I can't' "Why not?"
"Damn it you can't accept a man's hospitality and then tell him you're going to break up his marriage. Isn't there a hotel or a pub somewhere near?"
"Yes. There's one almost opposite Fleet House. That's where—" Jenny paused. Into her eyes came the same fear he had seen once before. She threw the thought away. "What are you going to do?"