He made wild accusations—there was some one else—she was keeping something from him!
"No, there's no one else."
This was true. But reacting from the strain of this affair she had found relief in the company of young boys like Jerry Holt, who had the merit of meaning absolutely nothing in her life.
George didn't take the situation well, at all. He seized her in his arms and tried literally to kiss her into marrying him at once. When this failed, he broke into a long monologue of self-pity, and ceased only when he saw that he was making himself despicable in her sight. He threatened to leave when he had no intention of leaving, and refused to go when she told him that, after all, it was best that he should.
For a while she was sorry, then for another while she was merely kind.
"You'd better go now," she cried at last, so loud that Mrs. Cary came down-stairs in alarm.
"Is something the matter?"
"I'm going away, Mrs. Cary," said George brokenly. Jonquil had left the room.
"Don't feel so badly, George." Mrs. Cary blinked at him in helpless sympathy—sorry and, in the same breath, glad that the little tragedy was almost done. "If I were you I'd go home to your mother for a week or so. Perhaps after all this is the sensible thing——"
"Please don't talk," he cried. "Please don't say anything to me now!"