“You are very kind, Constance,” he said gently. “I thank you very much.”
A silence followed, broken only by the singing of the wind in the old trees. The sky was overcast and there were light squalls on the water. Presently George began to talk again and an hour passed quickly away, far more quickly and pleasantly than he had believed possible. They had many thoughts and ideas in common, and the first constraint being removed it was impossible that they should be long together without talking freely.
“Why not kill him?” said Constance in a critical tone. “It would solve many difficulties, and after all you do not want him any more.”
They were talking of the book he was now writing. Insensibly they had approached the subject, and being once near it, George had not resisted the temptation to tell her the story.
“It would be so easy,” she continued. “Take him out in a boat and upset him, you know. They say drowning is a pleasant death. A boat like my brother-in-law’s—there it is. Do you see?”
Grace and her husband had been across to see Totty and were returning. The breeze was uncertain, and from time to time the boat lay over in a way that looked dangerous.
“Murder and sudden death!” said George with a light laugh. “Do you not think it would be more artistic to let him live? When I was a starving critic, that was one of my favourite attacks. At this point the author, for reasons doubtless known to himself, unexpectedly drowns his hero, and what might have proved a very fair story is brought to an abrupt close. You know the style. I used to do it very well. Do you not think they will say that?”
“What does it matter? Besides, it is only a suggestion, and this particular man is not the hero. I never liked him from the beginning, and I should be glad if he were brought to an awful end!”
“How heartless! But he is not so bad as you think. I never could tell a story well in this way, and you have not read the book. By Jove! I believe they have brought over Mamie and her mother. There are a lot of people in the boat.”
He was watching the little craft rather anxiously. It struck him that he would rather not be found sitting under the trees with Constance, by that particular party of people.