Since the terrible scene in the counting-house, her name by mutual consent had been left out of their conversations. They had substituted for it evasions which each had understood and appreciated in the other.
Now, without warning, "mamma," the symbol as it were of all that was disgraceful and degrading in her existence, flamed before her eyes.
"Any scheme that she has a finger in," Lilly cried, "must humiliate me to the dust. I tell you both straight that you had better be careful. If you make any proposals to me about an allowance of money, I shall consider it a bitter insult and never forgive you."
He paced the room, wringing his hands. "There you are, talking nonsense again! Don't you see that the world would cry shame on me if I turned you off with nothing? And, apart from that, what do you think would become of you?... You'd be on the streets. Woman, do you realise that?"
With sublime indifference, she ignored both him and his heroic zeal on her behalf.
"I can think of other ways," she said, half to herself.
Before her rose a life full of struggle and strenuous triumphs, a tossing hither and thither through storms and hardships, and a jubilant victory as she entered at his side into the society of those who were as good and steadfast as he was. But that final consummation could only come later--much, much later.
Richard interpreted her differently. His eyes were fixed on her suspiciously. He paused in front of her and asked, with a slight shudder, "I say, are you going ... to act like a fool and injure yourself?"
She burst out laughing. Already he evidently pictured her beautiful corpse being dragged out of the water and laid out.
"No, I am not going to commit suicide ... at least, certainly not on your account; and, if I wanted to, I would manage it with such good taste that you would not be inconvenienced or have anything to reproach yourself with."