He answered her appeal now with quite other words than those she perhaps sought, and it was the hardest pang of all to know it and recognise the vague discomfort in her eyes.
“You mustn’t be unfair to Geoffry, Patricia. You haven’t any right to say that. He will want to do his best for you when he understands.”
“He went away.”
“I sent him. I—I was afraid you were going to cry.”
Had he done wrong? He cast his thoughts back rapidly. He knew he could not have borne that they two should witness one of her wild fits of repentance and misery. It would have been unbearably unfit. He could not have left her to Geoffry, and yet it had been Geoffry’s right. He walked on by her side wondering where he had blundered.
“You would not have gone, Christopher, no matter who said so.” Her directness was dangerous. 277 She was then going to allow herself no illusions of any kind, not even concerning the man she loved, and Christopher became suddenly aware he was very young: that they were all three very young, and had no previous experience to guide them in this difficult pass, but must gain it for themselves, gain it perhaps at greater cost than he could willingly contemplate.
“It is no question of me, whatever,” he said slowly. “I’ve been used to you and I understand. I don’t know how it would be if I had not known, neither do you, but it’s clear, you or Nevil must explain the matter to Geoffry at once.”
“You can do it.”
“It’s not my place.”
“You were there.”