"I must leave you to make the best excuses you can; the position is of your own making. You can say that my health is bad, or that the doctor has ordered me abroad. I'll pay you a visit every now and then to keep up appearances. More you cannot ask of me--more I am not disposed to grant."
Olive rose and struck the table with her open hand.
"I protest against your attitude," she cried indignantly.
"As I do against yours."
"You are not treating me fairly," she said, keeping back her tears with an effort.
"As fairly as you treat me, surely?"
"If I agree to be your wife, if I----"
"No," he interrupted. "I prefer matters to remain as they are. It is useless to feign what we neither of us feel."
Having so far humiliated herself, Olive was not prepared to go further. She realized that his position was every whit as strong as her own. She could resent his behaviour in no way, seeing that the original compact was of her own making. Dismayed at the predicament in which she found herself, she retired to her room to consider what she should do. Finally, she determined that, should he leave her, she would go to London for a few months. Mrs. Purcell was on her way to England, and had expressed her intention of taking a house in London. The old lady would gladly have her to stay with her; perhaps she might even invite Tui to join them. She would blind the Casterwell people, at all events; they would not know that Angus had left her so soon. It was the only possible solution she could think of.
That evening she dined in her room. She had no fancy for a renewal of the discussion. It could avail her nothing. If her husband had made up his mind to go, go he would; all she could say or do would not serve to deter him. Silence was the only dignified course open to her. So she brought to bear upon herself as much of her little stock of philosophy as she could muster. But she had to confess it was poor consolation. She felt lonely and very miserable.