Nancy cared little to discuss this point. In argument with any one else, she would doubtless have maintained the equality of man and woman before the moral law; but that would only have been in order to prove herself modern-spirited. Tarrant’s dictum did not revolt her.
‘Friends are equals,’ she said, after a little thought. ‘But you don’t think me your equal, and you won’t be satisfied with me unless I follow your guidance.’
Tarrant laughed kindly.
‘True, I am your superior in force of mind and force of body. Don’t you like to hear that? Doesn’t it do you good—when you think of the maudlin humbug generally talked by men to women? We can’t afford to disguise that truth. All the same, we are friends, because each has the other’s interest at heart, and each would be ashamed to doubt the other’s loyalty.’
The latter part of the evening they spent with Mary, in whom Tarrant always found something new to admire. He regarded her as the most wonderful phenomenon in nature—an uneducated woman who was neither vulgar nor foolish.
Baby slept in a cot beside Nancy’s bed. For fear of waking him, the wedded lovers entered their room very softly, with a shaded candle. Tarrant looked at the curly little head, the little clenched hand, and gave a silent laugh of pleasure.
On the breakfast-table next morning lay a letter from Horace. As soon as she had opened it, Nancy uttered an exclamation which prepared her companion for ill news.
‘Just what I expected—though I tried not to think so. “I write aline only to tell you that my marriage is broken off. You will know the explanation before long. Don’t trouble yourself about it. I should never have been happy with Winifred, nor she with me. We may not see each other for some time, but I will write again soon.” He doesn’t say whether he or she broke it off. I hope it was Winifred.’
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Tarrant, ‘from the tone of that letter.’
‘I’m afraid not, too. It means something wretched. He writes from his London lodgings. Lionel, let me go back with you, and see him.’