She was silent, her pulses fluttering, and he resumed, speaking like one groping his way:
"I could have done the work, of course--I have done it for five years. I could have looked after the estate and the people. But the money, the paraphernalia, the hordes of servants, the mummery of the life! Why, Julie, should we be forced into it? What happiness--I ask you--what happiness can it bring to either of us?"
And again he looked up, and again it seemed to Julie that his expression was one of animated hostility and antagonism--antagonism to her, as embodying for the moment all the arguments--of advantage, custom, law--he was, in his own mind, fighting and denying. With a failing heart she felt herself very far from him. Was there not also something in his attitude, unconsciously, of that old primal antagonism of the man to the woman, of the stronger to the weaker, the more spiritual to the more earthy?
"You think, no doubt," he said, after a pause, "that it is my duty to take this thing, even if I could lay it down?"
"I don't know what I think," she said, hurriedly. "It is very strange, of course, what you say. We ought to discuss it thoroughly. Let me have a little time."
He gave an impatient sigh, then suddenly rose.
"Will you come and look at them?"
She, too, rose and put her hand in his.
"Take me where you will."
"It is not horrible," he said, shading his eyes a moment. "They are at peace."