The girl replied. “Nothing at all, thank you.” They did not shake hands.
Mr. Gasgoyne could not think that all had necessarily ended. The thing might be patched up one day yet. This affair with the dompteuse was mad sailing, but the man might round-to suddenly and be no worse for the escapade.
“We are going early in the morning,” he said. “We can get along all right. Good-bye. When do you come to England?”
The reply was prompt. “In a few weeks.”
He looked at both. The girl, seeing that he was going to speak further, bowed and left the room.
His eyes followed her. After a moment, he said firmly
“Mr. Gasgoyne, I am going to face all.”
“To live it down, Belward?”
“I am going to fight it down.”
“Well, there’s a difference. You have made a mess of things, and shocked us all. I needn’t say what more. It’s done, and now you know what such things mean to a good woman—and, I hope also, to the father of a good woman.”