‘Some one—and I was coming to you, if you had waited a moment. You, too, are disappointed and cut a poor figure.’
‘An injured figure!’
‘You are now cool enough, Sophronia, to see that you can’t be injured without my being equally injured; and that therefore the mere word is not to the purpose. When I look back, I wonder how I can have been such a fool as to take you to so great an extent upon trust.’
‘And when I look back—’ the bride cries, interrupting.
‘And when you look back, you wonder how you can have been—you’ll excuse the word?’
‘Most certainly, with so much reason.’
‘—Such a fool as to take me to so great an extent upon trust. But the folly is committed on both sides. I cannot get rid of you; you cannot get rid of me. What follows?’
‘Shame and misery,’ the bride bitterly replies.
‘I don’t know. A mutual understanding follows, and I think it may carry us through. Here I split my discourse (give me your arm, Sophronia), into three heads, to make it shorter and plainer. Firstly, it’s enough to have been done, without the mortification of being known to have been done. So we agree to keep the fact to ourselves. You agree?’
‘If it is possible, I do.’