“Well,” she went on, “that shows you are not at heart an altogether selfish brute,” and now she smiled a little. “And all the more does it show how much better you might still be if you chose. I am very glad, delighted, Despard, that you are discontented and dissatisfied; I knew it would come sooner or later.”
Mr Norreys looked rather embarrassed.
“Maddie,” he began again, “you haven’t quite understood me. I didn’t finish my sentence. I was going on to say that at least I had done no harm to anyone else; if no one’s any better through me, at least no one’s the worse for my selfishness—oh, yes, don’t interrupt,” he went on. “I know what you’d like to say—‘No man liveth to himself,’ the high-flown sort of thing. I don’t go in for that. But now—I have not even kept my consistency. You’d never guess what I’ve gone and done—at least, Maddie, can you guess?”
And his at all times sweet voice sweetened and softened as he spoke, and into his eyes stole a look Madeline had never seen there before.
“Despard,” she exclaimed breathlessly, “have you, can you, have fallen in love?”
He nodded.
“Oh, dear Despard,” she exclaimed, “I am so very glad. It will be the making of you. That’s to say, if—but it must be somebody very nice.”
“Nice enough in herself—nice,” he repeated, and he smiled. “Yes, if by nice you mean everything sweet and womanly, and original and delightful, and—oh, you mustn’t tempt me to talk about her. But what she is herself is not the only thing, my poor Maddie.”
Mrs Selby gave a start.
“Oh, Despard,” she exclaimed, “you don’t mean that she’s a married woman.”