Now there was nothing on earth Brett detested so thoroughly as a display of feminine sentiment, no matter how spontaneous or well-timed. At heart he was conscious of kindred emotions. A child’s cry, a woman’s sob, the groan of a despairing man, had power to move him so strangely that he had more than once allowed a long-sought opportunity to slip from his grasp rather than sear his own soul by displaying callous indifference to the sufferings of others.
The tears of these two, however, set his teeth on edge. What were they whining about—the affections of a doll of a man whose antics had been rightly treated by David when he proved to Capella that there is nothing like leather.
For the barrister laboured under no delusions respecting either woman. Margaret, who secretly feared her husband, was only pining for his rekindled admiration, whilst Helen, though true as steel to David Hume, could not be expected to regard the Italian’s misplaced passion as utterly outrageous. No woman can absolutely hate and despise a man for loving her, no matter how absurd or impossible his passion may be. She may proclaim, even feel, a vast amount of indignation, but in the secret recesses of her soul, hidden perhaps from her own scrutiny, she can find excuses for him.
Brett regarded Capella as an impressionable scamp, endowed with a too vivid imagination, and he determined forthwith to stir his hearers into revolt, defiance—anything but languishing regret and condolence.
Margaret soon gave him an opportunity. Recovering her self-possession with an effort, she said:
“I am glad you are here, Mr. Brett. Helen has probably told you that we need your presence—not that I have much to say to you, but I must have the advice of a wiser and clearer head than my own in the present position of affairs.”
“Exactly so,” replied the barrister cheerily. “As a preliminary to a pleasant chat, may I suggest a cup of tea for each of us?”
The ladies were manifestly astonished. Tea! When broken hearts were scattered around! The suggestion was pure bathos.
Margaret, with a touch of severity, permitted Brett to ring, and coldly agreed with Helen’s declaration that she could not think of touching any species of refreshment at such a moment.
“Then,” said Brett, advancing and holding out his hand, “I will save your servants from needless trouble, Mrs. Capella. I am equally emphatic in my insistence on food and drink as primary necessities. For instance, a cup of good tea just now is much more important in my eyes than your husband’s vagaries.”