“Where are you going?” he inquired abruptly.
“Home.”
A sudden, violent double-knock at the door made them both start.
“It’s only the postman,” Lacour explained. The interruption had been of good effect, relieving the overcharged atmosphere.
“Listen to me for one moment before you go,” he continued. “You must see perfectly well that you ask what is impossible. Mistake or not, right or wrong, I cannot undo what I have done; we must consider other people as well as ourselves. For all that, we are not going to part in an unfriendly way. I am sensitive; I could not be at my ease; I think you owe it to me to restore our relations to their former reasonable state.”
“I will try,” came from the girl in a whisper.
“But I must have your promise. You will go home to your father and sister, and will live as you have been doing.”
“Do you know how that has been?” she murmured.
“In future it must be different,” he urged vehemently. “Cannot you see that by being unhappy you reproach me?”
“I do not reproach you, but I cannot help my unhappiness.”