"Yes, you are responsible," was the firm reply. "Who knows what that poor woman may do now—after you have thrown her out!"
Floriot rose and burst out between anger and astonishment:
"Noel, what on earth is the matter with you? This woman has wrecked my home and ruined my life! Haven't I any rights? Wouldn't you have done what I did?"
"Your rights!" sneered his friend, with a scornful laugh. "Do you think that you have the right to sentence the mother of your boy to the life that she will have to lead now? Your own conscience must be singularly clear and your own life wonderfully blameless, my friend! Your rights! Humph! What about your duties? Did you look after your duties as faithfully as you are now looking out for your rights?
"Jacqueline was young and thoughtless—did you guide her and guard her? By your own story you threw her in the way of an attractive man so that you could shift some of your duties on to his shoulders!
"Did you study her heart? You expected her to make you happy—did you study her happiness?" he cried with bitter scorn. "Did you remember that she is far younger than you are? Did your age try to understand her youth and its needs?"
He paused. Floriot had sunk uncertainly back into his chair under the weight of this arraignment.
"You don' t answer! And because she—erred—because she has wounded your vanity by preferring—I'm not defending her!—by preferring another man to you when you did everything you could to make her do it, you throw her out and close your door against her! And you tell me you love her!"
"God knows I love her!" groaned Floriot.
Noel turned away with a short, scornful laugh.