For some time they rode on in silence, the Colonel’s wife setting a rattling pace and refusing all conversation. As they drew near home, however, she slowed down to a walk.
“Edgar, I want to speak to you quite seriously.” Her tone prepared the Colonel for the fixed and inevitable. “We shall say nothing to Paul tonight. I must have—we must have time to think. You may have thought me harsh just now, but the thing is really most perplexing and demands the most careful consideration. You can see that, Edgar?”
“Certainly, my dear. Most obvious, I am sure,” replied her husband, fully convinced of impending evil.
“And you will have to make clear to that—to Mr. Gaspard that all interchange of social amenities must of course cease.”
“But, my dear, I don’t——”
“He will at once see the propriety of the suggestion.”
“He would,” muttered the Colonel.
“For, after all, he is—he was a gentleman.”
“Ah, that is something,” said the Colonel bitterly.
“And you will have no difficulty in making clear to him that since he has deliberately chosen to outrage all the decencies of civilised society he cannot expect his friends to ignore the fact.”