"I have thought it all out, Ermengarde," he said, "and I have made up my mind what to do."
Ermengarde did not speak. She raised her eyes to Basil's face. There was entreaty in them, but he would not fully meet her glance.
"There is no use in my going over the thing with you," continued Basil. "If you could do it, no words of mine could make you see your conduct in its true light. Besides, I am not the one to preach to you. I am only a year older, and, as you reminded me last night, I have no sort of authority over you."
"Forget what I said last night!" pleaded Ermengarde.
"No, that is just the point. I can't forget—I shall never forget. The old relations between us are over, and as far as I am concerned it is impossible to restore them."
"Oh, Basil, you kill me when you speak so unkindly."
Ermengarde covered her face; her slight form was shaken by sobs.
"I am sorry," he said; "I cannot imagine why you value my regard, for we have quite different codes of honor; we look at things from totally different standpoints. I don't want to hold myself up, but I couldn't act as you have done, Ermengarde."
"Oh, Basil, if you only would be merciful."
Basil felt a growing sense of irritation.