“Wouldn't you rather take either of those than nothing?” she asked, “than go on living the life you are living now?”
“To be perfectly frank with you, Philippa, I wouldn't,” he declared bluntly. “What on earth use should I be in a land appointment? Why, no one could read my writing, and my nautical science is entirely out of date. Why a cadet at Osborne could floor me in no time.”
“You refuse to let me write, then?” she persisted.
“Absolutely.”
“You intend to go on that fishing expedition with Jimmy Dumble to-morrow?”
“Wouldn't miss it for anything,” he confessed.
Philippa was suddenly white with anger.
“Henry, I've finished,” she declared, holding out her hand to keep him away from her. “I've finished with you entirely. I would rather be married to an enemy who was fighting honourably for his country than to you. What I have said, I mean. Don't come near me. Don't try to touch me.”
She swept past him on her way to the door.
“Not even a good-night kiss?” he asked, stooping down.