Dishonorable! They could talk thus of dishonor! They did not think of my honor—the honor of William Durrant—that they were dragging about in the slime of their words. I felt a sudden impulse to leap to my feet and confront them; but I held myself firm.
“We must think of him, too,” he said. “We cannot build our happiness upon the wreck of his life. We cannot do that, Ruth—we would lose out in the end.”
She dropped her hands from his shoulders.
“His life wrecked?” She laughed bitterly. “You do not understand him, Gerald. Do you think losing me would wreck his life? It would not be loss of me, but the loss of his wife that would hurt. His wife—his honor—the honor of William Durrant—that would be attacked. You do not understand him if you think that.”
Again she put her hands on his shoulders.
“I’m fighting, Gerald,” she went on softly. “Fighting for the only thing worth while that life holds for me. Are you going to let me go down beaten—a woman who has lost the only good things—real things—a woman ever can hope for. The love of a real man. And—and children. To have children—oh, Gerald, you don’t understand—you don’t understand!”
Her voice broke suddenly and she ended with a sob. I saw his arms go around her. I pushed my chair back violently and sprang to my feet.
How it must have surprised them to be so abruptly confronted by me, the one person in the world they had injured, I can imagine. They both started guiltily at my sudden appearance. Gerald Rolf rose to his feet; Ruth sat quiet with her eyes fixed upon my face.
I strode across the room. I made up my mind then that there would be no heroics—no melodrama. The Durrants did not have to descend to that to protect their honor.
“I have heard all you said,” I began sternly; I looked at each of them in turn. “I could not help it—sitting there.”