"Ah, don't talk to me like that," he burst out. "As if I was not in hell already, without being reminded of it. Mummy, I don't mean that. You are all that is good and loving. You know that I know it. You are very gentle with me. I won't be angry again."
Mrs. Davenport's anxiety for Gertrude made her very tender.
"Ah, my dear," she said, "I do not care for myself. It is very immaterial that you speak like that to me. I should be a very selfish woman if I thought of myself just now. There are others to think of, you and—and Gertrude."
"Yes, I know, I know. But what am I to do? Tell me that, and I will do it."
"Go to Aix," said his mother promptly, "and go at once."
"Go to Aix!" said he. "Why, that's just what I couldn't possibly do. God knows, I have done Gertrude injury enough, without insulting her!"
"Your waiting here in London is the worst insult you could do her. You must see that."
"I can't do it!" he cried. "You know I can't. How can I leave Eva—Lady Hayes—like this?"
Mrs. Davenport got up, and waited a moment till her voice was more under her control. But when she spoke, her anger vibrated through it so strongly, that even Reggie, in his almost impenetrable self-centred wretchedness, was startled.