‘And reproach me always because you have to live in such a place, away from your friends, without a hope of the social success which was your dearest ambition?’
Her practical denial that she loved him wrung this taunt from his anguished heart. He repented the words as soon as they were spoken.
‘What is the good?’ exclaimed Amy in irritation, rising and moving away from him. ‘How can I pretend that I look forward to such a life with any hope?’
He stood in mute misery, inwardly cursing himself and his fate.
‘I have said I will come,’ she continued, her voice shaken with nervous tension. ‘Ask me or not, as you please, when you are ready to go there. I can’t talk about it.’
‘I shall not ask you,’ he replied. ‘I will have no woman slave dragging out a weary life with me. Either you are my willing wife, or you are nothing to me.’
‘I am married to you, and that can’t be undone. I repeat that I shan’t refuse to obey you. I shall say no more.’
She moved to a distance, and there seated herself, half turned from him.
‘I shall never ask you to come,’ said Reardon, breaking a short silence. ‘If our married life is ever to begin again it must be of your seeking. Come to me of your own will, and I shall never reject you. But I will die in utter loneliness rather than ask you again.’
He lingered a few moments, watching her; she did not move. Then he took his hat, went in silence from the room, and left the house.