“I’m going anyhow,” he added.
“Gerald!” She put her hand on his arm.
“There’s no other way, is there?” He met her eyes steadily. “I love you too much to do anything else but go away. You can understand that, can’t you? After to-day—after what we’ve confessed to each other.”
I held myself back with an effort. My brain was whirling. That this impudent boy should dare talk to Ruth—to my wife—like this!
There was another silence. Then I saw Ruth slide her hand down his forearm until her fingers touched his.
“Have you thought it all over carefully Gerald? Are you sure, quite sure, that for you to go away—alone—is the best thing—the right thing?”
She spoke quietly. Even now she seemed to maintain that reserve I disliked in her so intensely.
“Yes,” he said; his voice sounded very tired. “It’s the only thing to do now—with honor.”
Honor! He could prate of honor, when by their very words, their thoughts, they were dragging my honor in the mire!
“I’m not sure.” She spoke softly—so softly I could hardly hear the words. “I’m not sure, Gerald. I’ve thought about this, too. I’ve seen it coming—oh yes, I have—for a very long time. I’ve known what was in your heart—and in mine.