"Why didn't you tell me instead of doing that?"
"I wanted to make certain."
"Why didn't you tell my husband?"
"For your sake. I wanted to save you."
"No, you didn't… You weren't thinking of me. You were thinking of
Arthur."
This was perfectly true, but Mrs. Payne had not gone through hell to discuss fine points of that kind. She had left her room in very much the same frame of mind as she would have adopted in approaching the dismissal of a servant. She had expected to be met with passionate denials, had prepared herself, indeed, for a stormy "scene"; instead of which Gabrielle appeared to be curious rather than disturbed about her discovery, and a great deal more interested in the psychological than in the practical aspects of the case. If she had offered any violent opposition to Mrs. Payne, Mrs. Payne could have given her violence in return. But she didn't. The mood of exaltation into which their love-making had lifted her made her regard this woman with something nearer to pity than dislike. Her attitude implied that to consider the practical aspect of the affair would be in the nature of a condescension. Mrs. Payne naturally resented this, but in any case Gabrielle had taken the wind out of her sails. They were drifting—rather unpleasantly—away from the object of her visit. She pulled herself—and then Gabrielle—up short.
"You can't pretend not to realise the seriousness of your position," she said. "You're a married woman. If you persist in this madness you'll ruin your whole life. I'll be candid with you. What happens to you doesn't matter to me; but what happens to Arthur does. Can't you see the end of it?"
"No … it's only begun…."
"Then I'll tell you the end. Your husband will divorce you."
"Then I shall be free? And why not? We don't love each other. Why should we go on living together? The thought of him makes me shudder … now."