"Indeed, I hardly know. But the situation is so awkward, and you are the only person who has really great influence with Lady Ogram—"
There was silence amid the noise of the train. May looked through one window, Dyce through the other.
"In any case," exclaimed Lashmar, "I have discharged what I felt to be a duty. I could not bear to think that you should be living with Miss Bride, and totally misunderstanding her. I wanted you to do justice to her noble self-sacrifice. Of course I have felt ashamed of myself ever since I allowed her to get into such a false position. You, I fear, think worse of me than you did."
He regarded her from under his eyelids, as if timidly. May sat very upright. She did not look displeased; a light in her eyes might have been understood as expressing satisfaction.
"Suppose," she said, looking away, "that October comes, and you haven't been able to—to put an end to this situation?"
"I'm afraid—very much afraid—that we shall have to do so at any cost."
"It's very strange, altogether. An extraordinary state of things."
"You forgive me for talking to you about it?" asked Dyce, leaning respectfully forward.
"I understand why you did. There was no harm in it."
"Do you remember our talk in the supper-room at Mrs. Toplady's?—when we agreed that nothing was more foolish than false modesty. Shall I venture to tell you, now, that, if this marriage came about, it would be something like ruin to my career? You won't misunderstand. I have a great respect, and a great liking, for Miss Bride; but think how all-important it is, this question of marriage for a public man."