“But I couldn’t!”
“You couldn’t! You write me a libel about a friend of mine which you yourself say you couldn’t justify!”
“I can’t bear to hear you speak of that man as your friend.”
“He is my friend. I like him very much indeed. And I know him, have known him for weeks, while you tell me you don’t know him. I shall venture to set my knowledge, my personal knowledge, against your ignorance, Adela, and to go on with my friendship. But you need not be afraid.” She smiled contemptuously. “I will not show Mr. Arabian this cruel letter which you yourself say you couldn’t justify.”
As she spoke she returned the letter to her muff, which was lying on a table beside her.
“Well,” she added, “I don’t know that there is anything more I need say. I came here to have it out with you. That is my way, perhaps an American way, of doing things. We don’t care for underhand dealings. We like things fair and square.”
She got up.
“You have your way of doing things and we have ours! I’ll tell you what mine would have been, Adela, if the situation had been reversed. I should not have written at all. I should have come to see you, and if I had had some grave, hideous charge to make I should have made it, and fully explained my reasons for making it to you. I should have put you in the same state of complete knowledge as I was in. That is my idea of friendship and fair dealing. But you think otherwise. So what is the good of our arguing any more about the matter?”
Lady Sellingworth was still sitting. For a moment she did not move, but remained where she was looking up at the girl. Just then she was assailed by a fierce temptation. After all, had not she done her part? Had not she done all that anyone could expect from her, from any woman under the existing circumstances? Had not she done even much more than many women could have brought themselves to do? Beryl had not been very kind to her. Beryl was really the enemy of her happiness, of her poor little attempt after happiness. And yet she had taken a risk in order to try and save Beryl from danger. And the girl would not be saved. Headstrong, wilful, embittered, she refused to be saved. Then why not let her go? She had been warned. She chose to defy the warning. That was not Lady Sellingworth’s fault.
“I’ve done enough! I’ve done all I can do.”