Nan said, “Once she used to talk about the penal servitude of spinsterhood.”
“And now,” said Barrington, “she’ll have to learn about the penal servitude of marriage. Whatever happens, unless he ill-treats her, he’ll be her husband to the end.”
“But—— But can’t we stop this dreadful something?”
Barrington stooped and took her hand.
“Little woman, we’ve been trying to stop it all these years. We can’t stop it; we can only postpone it and give him more time to drag Jehane and the children lower down. We’ve reached the point where things have got to be at their worst before they can grow better. It’s a question now of how many of them we can rescue. Ocky has to be allowed to sink for the sake of the rest.”
Nan’s forehead puckered at the cruelty of such logic. “But I don’t understand. It seems so horrible that we should sit here, with a fire burning and everything comfortable, saying things like that.”
“It is horrible. It’s so horrible that, if I were to give him everything I have, he’d still go to the devil. He’s a drowning man and he’ll drag down everyone who tries to drag him out.”
She clung to her husband aghast at this painful glimpse of reality. “But I still don’t understand. Why—— Why should he be like that? He’s kind, and he’s gentle, and he makes children love him.”
“You want to know? And you won’t be hurt if I say something very terrible?”
“I don’t mind being hurt—I’m that already.”