“My God, no. Look here, Margaret. I tell you why I can’t tell her. I’m a blackguard, and all that. Look here. She’s going to have a child.”
“My God. Are you sure, Stukeley?”
“Sure? Damn it, man. It’s serious. For God’s sake talk sense.”
“Well. My God. She must be told, man. It’ll only be worse for her later.”
“No, it won’t be.”
“But what are you going to do?”
“Do? I tell you it’ll be death for her if she learns.”
“But you must think of her, Stukeley. Man. How. Supposing. She can’t come to Darien. It’s impossible.”
“It’s not impossible. It’d be all right.”
“Well, Stukeley, I give you up.”