She made it out. “By bringing things to a head?”
“How well you understand!” he almost groaned. “Waymarsh won’t in the least, at any rate, when I have it out with him, deny or extenuate. He has acted from the deepest conviction, with the best conscience and after wakeful nights. He’ll recognise that he’s fully responsible, and will consider that he has been highly successful; so that any discussion we may have will bring us quite together again—bridge the dark stream that has kept us so thoroughly apart. We shall have at last, in the consequences of his act, something we can definitely talk about.”
She was silent a little. “How wonderfully you take it! But you’re always wonderful.”
He had a pause that matched her own; then he had, with an adequate spirit, a complete admission. “It’s quite true. I’m extremely wonderful just now. I dare say in fact I’m quite fantastic, and I shouldn’t be at all surprised if I were mad.”
“Then tell me!” she earnestly pressed. As he, however, for the time answered nothing, only returning the look with which she watched him, she presented herself where it was easier to meet her. “What will Mr. Waymarsh exactly have done?”
“Simply have written a letter. One will have been quite enough. He has told them I want looking after.”
“And do you?”—she was all interest.
“Immensely. And I shall get it.”
“By which you mean you don’t budge?”
“I don’t budge.”