And then: ‘It’s a pity you can’t be frank, Philip, about what was said that night in your study. I feel that there’s something you’re keeping back from me—it’s so unlike Martin to behave as he has done; there must have been something that you haven’t told me, to have made him go off without even a letter—’
He flared up at once because he felt guilty. ‘I don’t care a damn about Martin!’ he said hotly. ‘All I care about is Stephen, and she’s going to Oxford next year; she’s my child as well as yours, Anna!’
Then quite suddenly Anna’s self-control left her, and she let him see into her tormented spirit; all that had lain unspoken between them she now put into crude, ugly words for his hearing: ‘You care nothing for me any more—you and Stephen are enleagued against me—you have been for years.’ Aghast at herself, she must yet go on speaking: ‘You and Stephen—oh, I’ve seen it for years—you and Stephen.’ He looked at her, and there was warning in his eyes, but she babbled on wildly: ‘I’ve seen it for years—the cruelty of it; she’s taken you from me, my own child—the unspeakable cruelty of it!’
‘Cruelty, yes, but not Stephen’s, Anna—it’s yours; for in all the child’s life you’ve never loved her.’
Ugly, degrading, rather terrible half-truths; and he knew the whole truth, yet he dared not speak it. It is bad for the soul to know itself a coward, it is apt to take refuge in mere wordy violence.
‘Yes, you, her mother, you persecute Stephen, you torment her; I sometimes think you hate her!’
‘Philip—good God!’
‘Yes, I think you hate her; but be careful, Anna, for hatred breeds hatred, and remember I stand for the rights of my child—if you hate her you’ve got to hate me; she’s my child. I won’t let her face your hatred alone.’
Ugly, degrading, rather terrible half-truths. Their hearts ached while their lips formed recriminations. Their hearts burst into tears while their eyes remained dry and accusing, staring in hostility and anger. Far into the night they accused each other, they who before had never seriously quarrelled; and something very like the hatred he spoke of leapt out like a flame that seared them at moments.
‘Stephen, my own child—she’s come between us.’