“I am.”
The kindness went from his voice. He rang the bell, waited in silence till Hetty brought the lamp, and took it from her at the door to prevent her entering.
“You say it isn’t ended, this criminal folly. I can’t conceive what you mean by it. One of these days you’ll drag my name through the dirt. There are other people to consider besides yourself. There’s Ruthita—her husband’s sensitive already. In fact, he doesn’t want to meet you, and he doesn’t want you to meet her. What it comes to is this: we can’t be friends unless you give this woman up absolutely.”
“It’s not possible. Randall threatened to divorce her. If he does, it will be that I may marry her. I shall have to marry her, and I shall be jolly glad to marry her. What has happened since I left I can’t tell. Until I know, I hold myself prepared. So I can’t promise anything.”
“The choice is between her and your family.”
“I choose her.”
“Then until you’ve come to your senses, there can be no communication between us.”
He sat down noisily at his desk. “You’ll excuse me; there’s nothing more to be said.”
When I still waited, he took up his pen. “I have an article here that I must get finished.”
I walked slowly down the lane. The door swung to behind me. I felt that I was seeing this for the last time. All the old, trivial, sweet associations came thronging back: the dying affections, the lost innocence which had seemed so permanent, stretched out hands to restrain me. Even Hetty had condemned; it was written in her face. Long ago Hetty and I had viewed the world from the same angle, we had criticised and schemed against our tyrants together. The chapter of home life was ended. Whatever happened as regards Vi, there could be no going back.