“I wrote home at the end of August. The mail takes just over a fortnight each way. I might get an answer—to-morrow.”
She said after a moment’s thought: “Oh, I am glad, tremendously glad ... for you.”
The thought of John’s leaving China, of his returning home, troubled her. It brought Ordith and the inevitable decision nearer. Somehow John’s absence—though lately his presence had meant so little to her—would weaken her own defences. Now that he was breaking free of his net, his company and the likeness of his situation to her own as she conceived it had become suddenly more valuable to her. A safeguard, she told herself.... And yet, more than a safeguard.... She looked at him nervously. She wanted him not to go. She would be alone when he had gone.
“You know,” she said, “this—all this life—doesn’t suit me better than you. We’re together in that. And you are escaping.”
“It’s no good without you.”
He had spoken on the instant. There was no going back. He said, before she could interrupt him:
“Margaret, you must listen. One can’t go on alone. I can’t. I don’t believe you can. We are both caught the same way. I’m getting free. You must, too. Oh, you must, Margaret!”
“It’s impossible.”
“Now, yes. But couldn’t we come to an understanding now? And later——”
He was stricken by doubt for the meaning of her word “impossible.” He tried and failed to read her face.