He regretted having said that as soon as the words were spoken. What right had he to reproach her for inconstancy? It was easy for him to remain faithful in thought to the wife who had never given him a moment’s pain. She had suffered—he knew that she must have suffered a great deal—on his account; but her love had remained unchanged through all the disappointment and the weary years of waiting. He held the foremost place in her heart. He was still her husband, to whom she had given the best of her love. She did not withdraw her heart from him. She wanted him, even as he wanted her: that assurance removed all doubt from his mind as to what they ought to do. He meant to have her.
He fell to talking quietly and reasonably about the situation. It was useless to indulge in recrimination and self-reproach: they must take a common-sense view of their case and make the best of the difficulties. These were not insoluble after all.
He was still talking, while Esmé listened to him with an air of anxious attention, when Jim Bainbridge walked in. From the clerk he had learned of the presence of his sister-in-law and of the stranger who had visited him on the previous day. The cat was out of the bag now for good or ill: the business of keeping Paul Hallam’s return secret had ceased to be any affair of his. He had wanted to biff the fellow out of it; had trusted that Hallam would see the inexpediency of his resuscitation stunt and clear off before the news of his return got about. And here they were, together—in his office! He was jolly well in the soup this time.
He came in looking harassed and startled, and stood inside the door, surveying them in a sort of worried amazement. The appearance of his sister-in-law shocked him. She looked as if she had been mixed up in the brawling in the streets; as if she had been rolled in the dust and badly hurt. His eyes met hers, and read reproach in them as she got up from his chair and came towards him.
“Jim, why didn’t you tell me this last night?” she said.
“I wouldn’t have told you, ever, if I’d had my way,” he answered, with the sulky manner of a man receiving an unmerited rebuke. “How did you come to find one another? If those blasted niggers hadn’t started raising Cain over the arrest of their blackguardly leader, I’d have been in my place here. Something always happens when I’m not on the spot. Well, you’ve settled what you’re going to do, I suppose? It’s your show anyhow.”
The telephone bell rang at that moment and interrupted the train of his ideas. He seated himself before his desk and took up the receiver. His face was a study in expressions while he listened.
“Hullo! ... Yes. She’s here all right...”
“It’s George speaking,” he looked up to remark for the general information.
“Eh? ... Oh! yes; there’s been a devil of a shindy. It’s quieting down now. I think we’ve seen the worst of it. I hope it will serve to illustrate how absurdly inadequate our police force is. They’ve done wonders. There will be a few funerals over this. One or two Europeans killed, worse luck! ... You will? ... Right! We’ll keep her with us until you turn up. Good-bye.”