"You ought to have come and told me yourself!" she said.
"I had no opportunity," he reminded her. "I left London the morning after—it happened—and I returned last night."
"Political business?" she asked.
"Entirely."
"Lawrence," she said, "I don't like it."
"Why not?" he asked. "Has mine been such a successful life, do you think, that you need grudge me a little happiness towards its close?"
"Bosh!" she answered. "You are only forty-six. You are a young man still."
"I had forgotten my years," he declared. "I only know that I am tired."
"You look it," she remarked. "I must say that there is very little of the triumphant suitor about you. You work too hard, Lawrence."
"If I do," he asked, with a note of fierceness in his tone, "whose fault is it? I was almost happy at Blakely. I had almost learned to forget. It was you who dragged me out again. You were not satisfied with half of my income; you were always in debt, always wanting more money. Then Borrowdean made use of you. He wanted me back into politics, you wanted more money for your follies and extravagances. Back I had to come into harness. Blanche, I've tried to do my duty to you, but there is a limit. I owed you a comfortable place in life, and I have tried to see that you have it. I have never refused anything you have asked me, I have never mentioned the sacrifices which I have been forced to make. But there is a limit. I draw it here. I will not suffer any interference between the Duchess of Lenchester and myself!"