Eric let fall her hand and drew back, biting his lip.
"That's not a very pretty thing to say, darling," he murmured.
"I'm sorry.… I've been haunted all night. It seemed as if God must strike me down.… And, whenever I fell asleep, Jack was there, reproaching me, mocking me——"
"He's had his chance," Eric interrupted sharply. "You start absolutely free."
"You mean he's—rejected me?"
After the tragic talk of God's striking her down for taking His name in vain, Eric could not attune himself readily to a whimper of wounded vanity. Barbara's dramatic intensity had hitherto been convincing, and he had never imagined that she was unhappy because she had offered herself to a man and he had repelled her.
"I mean it's—all over. You've no reason to reproach yourself, Babs.… I want to talk to you about seeing your father——"
She stopped him with a shudder, and Eric found a difficulty in curbing his impatience. Trying a fresh cast, he described his latest invitation to lecture in America. Barbara listened with half her attention, mechanically agreeing that it would be an experience and a change, mechanically accepting his figures and wounding him with an indifference which was made greater by her early love of sharing his triumphs with him. He hunted through a pile of letters and gave her one in which the previous occupant of his flat offered generous terms for the remainder of the lease.
"We must decide some time when we're going to be married," he said, "and where we're going to live."
"Please, Eric!"