‘Certainly. Why should I conceal it?’
‘No, no; I didn’t mean to suggest that. But you might be taking it for granted that—that the rupture was final, I thought.’
There had never been any intimacy between these two men. Reardon regarded his wife’s brother as rather snobbish and disagreeably selfish; John Yule looked upon the novelist as a prig, and now of late as a shuffling, untrustworthy fellow. It appeared to John that his brother-in-law was assuming a manner wholly unjustifiable, and he had a difficulty in behaving to him with courtesy. Reardon, on the other hand, felt injured by the turn his visitor’s remarks were taking, and began to resent the visit altogether.
‘I take nothing for granted,’ he said coldly. ‘But I’m afraid nothing is to be gained by a discussion of our difficulties. The time for that is over.
‘I can’t quite see that. It seems to me that the time has just come.’
‘Please tell me, to begin with, do you come on Amy’s behalf?’
‘In a way, yes. She hasn’t sent me, but my mother and I are so astonished at what is happening that it was necessary for one or other of us to see you.’
‘I think it is all between Amy and myself.’
‘Difficulties between husband and wife are generally best left to the people themselves, I know. But the fact is, there are peculiar circumstances in the present case. It can’t be necessary for me to explain further.’
Reardon could find no suitable words of reply. He understood what Yule referred to, and began to feel the full extent of his humiliation.