When and how could he get hold of eight thousand francs? As long as he was unable to reimburse her he should feel crushed, and dishonoured, his life a burden to him. Because he deeply resented his humiliation, Maurice loaded his companion with reproach.
“Very well, then. I am your debtor. I will pay you back, though. After that we’ll see.”
“What a discussion for two lovers,” sighed Edith, at her wits’ end, discouraged, beaten: “on the day of our anniversary!”
She hid her face, and Maurice, more miserable than herself, came up to her and tried to pull away her clenched hands.
“Listen, Edith, I don’t accuse you, not you yourself. We have been living together as if we were married. I have had no thought but for our happiness. I was wrong. I am still quite young.”
She yielded her hands up to him, not afraid to show him her poor swollen eyes.
“Shouldn’t I have accepted everything from you and been grateful for it?”
“And I from you, yes, but from him? Oh, he’s well avenged. If I have destroyed his home he has crushed my honour.”
“Have I been thinking of him, do you suppose?” But he continued gravely and with sad insistence: “We were living so heedlessly. It’s all finished now.”
There was such despair in his voice that she flung herself impulsively into his arms, and cried, “Hush!”