‘Stephen!’
‘My darling Virginia, so much closer to simple truth than I am,—so much closer, indeed, to God—sees no difference.’
‘She says so to you, does she? I wager she does see a difference in her heart, then. She is only standing up for that woman from some warped idea of duty—standing up for her against her own husband, against the father of her child.’
He made a gesture of weariness. He had suffered much. None but himself knew what his nights had been.
‘I love Virginia,’ he said, as if to himself.
Mrs. Colquhoun stood staring at him. He did not look at her, but sat at his table with bowed head. She had never before seen him like this, broken down, his standards gone, giving in, winking at sin, prepared, as he himself put it, to countenance it.
‘Stephen——’ she began.
He got up. ‘I think,’ he said, ‘I’ll go to Virginia now and put things straight.’
‘You really intend to have those shocking people here and whitewash them?’
He looked at her a moment in silence, bringing his attention back to what she was saying.