“How could I help? What other motive have you?”
He was prompted to make brutal declaration of authority, and so cut the knot. Monica’s unanswerable argument merely angered him. But he made an effort over himself.
“Don’t you think it best that we should take some step before our happiness is irretrievably ruined?”
“I see no need for its ruin. As I have told you before, in talking like that you degrade yourself and insult me.”
“I have my faults; I know them only too well. One of them is that I cannot bear you to make friends with people who are not of my kind. I shall never be able to endure that.”
“Of course you are speaking of Mr. Barfoot.”
“Yes,” he avowed sullenly. “It was a very unfortunate thing that I happened to come up just as he was in your company.”
“You are so very unreasonable,” exclaimed Monica tartly. “What possible harm is there in Mr. Barfoot, when he meets me by chance in a public place, having a conversation with me? I wish I knew twenty such men. Such conversation gives me a new interest in life. I have every reason to think well of Mr. Barfoot.”
Widdowson was in anguish.
“And I,” he replied, in a voice shaken with angry feeling, “feel that I have every reason to dislike and suspect him. He is not an honest man; his face tells me that. I know his life wouldn’t bear inspection. You can’t possibly be as good a judge as I am in such a case. Contrast him with Bevis. No, Bevis is a man one can trust; one talk with him produces a lasting favourable impression.”