"If you send what you have written, I shall leave to-night," said the colonel. "I shall reach New York as soon as your letter and see Harmon before he reads it, and tell him what I think."
"You will not do that?" She did not know whether she was frightened, or not, by the idea.
"I will," he answered. "I will not stay here tamely and let you wreck your life. If you mail your letter, I shall take the midnight train to Paris. I told you that I was in earnest."
Helen was silent, for she saw a new difficulty and more trouble before her, as though the last few hours had not brought her enough.
"I think," said Wimpole, "that I could persuade Harmon not to accept your generosity."
"I am not doing anything generous. You are making it hard for me to do what is right. You are almost threatening to do something violent, to hinder me."
"No. I know perfectly well that I should never do anything of that sort, and I think you know it, too. To treat Harmon as he deserves would certainly make a scandal which must reflect upon you."
"Please remember that he is still my husband--"
"Yes," interrupted Wimpole, bitterly, "and that is his only title to consideration."
Helen was on the point of rebuking him, but reflected that what he said was probably true.