“This is a mad thing on my part,” she said; “a mad thing. I know it. Of course, I might have asked you to come to me, but I couldn't wait so long. And I don't trust letters. Some news can't be written. It is not about Mrs. Parflete,” she added, hastily, “you need not fear that. It is about Beauclerk. He came to see me this afternoon. He is going to throw you over. He is going to fail you at the Meeting. You are to test public opinion while he sits under shelter—to profit by your experience. What do you think of that?”
“You are very good to come. But I hope you are mistaken all the same. He may throw me over. I am sure he will send me a word of warning.”
“That was his first intention. He gave it up, because he knew you wouldn't act without him. And he wants you to act—for the reason I have given. Oh, I'm so ashamed, so humiliated to think that any friend of mine could be such a traitor.”
She unpinned her veil, and seemed all the handsomer for her scornful expression and flashing eyes.
“You must be the first to retire,” she continued. “I won't have you treated in this contemptuous way: I won't endure it. I want you to write to the Committee at once—at once—without a moment's loss of time. This is why I have come here myself. You seem to have something in you which they take for weakness. You will stand anything. Oh, I know why well enough. You like to be a martyr—which means saying nothing and suffering a good deal. But I call it a mistake. I call it irritating, misleading, actually wrong. If I were a man I would kill people.”
“It is easy enough to kill.”
“So they say. Be more unscrupulous, dear friend. Give your nature full play now and again. You can't make me believe that you are ever natural.”
“Some can trust their natures. I don't trust mine.”
“Don't you see how much more power you would have over men if you were more emotional, more spontaneous, more human? Who gives you credit for self-control? No one. They say you are self-contained—a very different idea. They say you are cold. Now, I don't care what I do. I follow every impulse. I must follow them. I had to come here this evening. I had to tell you about Reckage. The landlord was odious. I met two men on the staircase. One actually tried to peer into my face. I have never submitted to such indignities. Heaven knows what they are thinking now. I shall remember their vile laugh as long as I live. But I was determined to see you. And here I am. Apparently I have not done much good by coming. You hardly believe me. You think me an indiscreet woman.”
“I think you are splendid.”