"How do I know?" said Trevor. "I have eyes—that is all: eyes and a certain amount of intuition," he added.
"I cannot go to-day," said Florence, who took no notice of his words, "but perhaps on Sunday I may go to see your mother. Will you be there then?"
"Yes: did you not hear? I have broken with Mrs. Aylmer."
"What?" said Florence. She forgot herself in her excitement. She came two or three steps forward; her hands were clasped tightly together.
"Yes; I cannot stand the life. Mrs. Aylmer is very kind to me, and means well; but so long as she is so cruel to you I cannot endure it. I have told her so, and I am going to earn my own living in the future. I am no longer a rich man—indeed, I am a very poor one; but I have brains and I think I have pluck, and some day I am certain I shall succeed."
Trevor held himself erect, and his eyes, full of suppressed fire, were fixed on Florence's face. He wanted her to say she was glad; he wanted to get a word of sympathy from her. On the contrary, she turned very white, and said, in a low, almost broken voice: "Oh, I am terribly sorry! Why have you done this?"
"You are sorry?"
"Yes, I am."
"I have done it for you. I cannot stand injustice."
"I could never under any circumstances accept Mrs. Aylmer's money," said Florence. "You do me no good, and yourself harm; and then your mother: she was so happy about you. Oh, do go back to Mrs. Aylmer; do tell her you didn't mean it. I know she must be very fond of you. It makes me so wretched, so overpoweringly wretched, to think you should have done this for me. Oh, do go back! She will be so glad to receive you. I know a little about her: I know she will receive you with rejoicing."