"There was no disguise about it, while it was going on, you know. But in the daytime—well, we seemed to be ordinary people, and nothing was said. Now do you see?"
Mabel did. "It makes it very awkward for you. But feeling as you do now, you simply must have it out."
"I can't," Lucy said with conviction. "I know I can't do that. No, it must stop another way. I must—be hateful."
"Do you mean to make him dislike you? To put him off?"
Lucy nodded. "Something like that."
"Try it," said Mabel.
"You mean it won't answer?"
"I mean that you won't, my dear. You are not that sort. Much too kind. Now I could be perfectly beastly, if I felt it the only thing."
Lucy was in a hard stare. "I don't feel kind just now. James has given me a horror of things of the sort. I don't believe he meant it. I think he felt snappish and thought he would relieve his feelings that way. But there it is. He has made it all rather disgusting. It's become like a kind of intrigue of vulgar people, in a comedy."
"These things do when you take them out and look at them," Mabel said. "Like sham jewellery. They are all right in their cases. The velvet lining does so much. But although you may be disgusted with James's handling of your private affairs, you are not disgusted with—the other?"