“It wouldn’t do,” she said swiftly. “I’m sure it wouldn’t do. Just for a moment, Matthew, you thought it would. But you and I couldn’t do that sort of thing and you know it as well as I do. We’re not the kind of persons who can build happiness out of wrongs.”
“But what are the wrongs?”
“Wrongs to Fliss and to Dick—even if we don’t think they’d care much. I’m sure, Matthew. There was a moment when I was doubtful about it, but I’m not doubtful any more. There are times, I suppose, when that sort of thing is justified—if a woman loves a man enough. But——”
He did not let her finish. “Don’t say it, Cecily. I know. But I’d rather not have you say it. Forget it all. For a moment while you were doubtful I sailed among the clouds. It was my big personal moment. Now I’m back on the earth and there I’ll stay. I’ll go to Washington and fumble around among the tangles of the country’s affairs and if I’m lucky perhaps I’ll untie some little knot in the great tangle. And I’ll be glad all the time that you are alive and that the world is enriched by you.”
“It will be so lonely without you. Even when I don’t see much of you, just to know that you are here is a comfort.”
“I’ll always be ready to come on demand, you know, Cecily. What I hope is that you can fight your way through this. You mustn’t expect things to clear perfectly and absolutely. The best any one of us gets is a ray of hope and enlightenment now and then. You may have to compromise—even if it hurts you. But you won’t have to compromise your ideals, Cecily—just the manner of putting them over.”
She had fallen back into her chair and sat there looking at the fire.
“I’m going now.”
Cecily made a bewildered gesture of protest. He turned to the door, but she sprang up, hurrying after him.
“It will be so terrible alone—again. Don’t go.”