‘I told you it was a mere note, just to let you know I was back. I said you should hear more when we met.’
‘Very well, we have met. What have you to say for yourself?’
‘First of all, this. That you are mistaken in supposing I should ever consent to share your money. The thought was natural to you, no doubt; but I see things from a different point of view.’
His cold anger completely disguised the emotion stirred in him by Nancy’s presence. Had he not spoken thus, he must have given way to joy and tenderness. For Nancy seemed more beautiful than the memory he had retained of her, and even at such a juncture she was far from exhibiting the gross characteristics attributed to her by his rebellious imagination.
‘Then I don’t understand,’ were her next words, ‘why you wrote to me again at all.’
‘There are many things in me that you don’t understand, and can’t understand.’
‘Yes, I think so. That’s why I see no use in our talking.’
Tarrant was ashamed of what he had said—a meaningless retort, which covered his inability to speak as his heart prompted.
‘At all events I wanted to see you, and it’s fortunate you passed just as I was coming out.’
Nancy would not accept the conciliatory phrase.