“We haven’t. That’s what I’m always trying to tell you,” he said stormily. “We don’t have to meet this way—in this beastly, lying way—pretending to your aunt that your French lesson is for two hours instead of one, so that we can have one hour a week alone together. Tell her! Let her be upset! She’ll have to know some time. Then at least I can come to see you in your own place, decently and honorably.”
“I will not tell her now! You do[Pg 154]n’t realize what it’ll mean to Aunt Bessie. You don’t care. She hasn’t any one but me. I won’t tell her now, and let her have all that long time to think about—losing me. She’s going to be happy as long as possible.”
Hardy took her arm.
“Come on,” he said, “or you’ll be ten minutes late, and she’ll have a nervous attack and keep you up all night, as usual!”
But when he felt how she was shivering in her thin jacket, a terrible compunction seized him.
“Oh, Edith!” he cried. “Edith, never mind all that! Darling little Edith, it’s only our affair, after all! Let’s get married now, before I go!”
“You know we can’t,” she said, with a sob. “Not when you’re so obstinate and—and unkind. You know we couldn’t manage for ourselves and Aunt Bessie, too, in any place where she’d be comfortable, just on your salary; and you’re so unreasonable about my job!”
“Look here, Edith—I’ll sell that blamed stock, and that’ll provide for Aunt Bessie until I’ve got my raise.”
“You won’t! You shan’t!” She pulled her arm away from him, and roughly wiped away the tears running down her cheeks. “Don’t you dare to mention such a thing! I’m not going to ruin your whole life just for—”
“Well, you’ve ruined it!” said Hardy. “I can tell you that, if it’s any satisfaction to you. I don’t care now what happens to me, or whether I go on or not. You’ve shown me how little you care for me. You’ve—Edith!”