“Go on,” said Eric.
“Well, he stopped short there... He was very quiet... He seemed to be saying that he’d made all arrangements and everything was right and I’d been rather impatient. I didn’t know what to say... Well, then he said, ‘The last time we were together you seemed to have a pretty low opinion of me. I told you that I couldn’t marry you then. I can’t marry you now. I can’t marry you till I’ve got the job and held it. But I’m going to get it and I’m going to hold it.’”
“Ah!”
Ivy looked up in surprise at the rasping interjection.
“What d’you mean, Eric?”
“It sounds to me very like his original promise. And I think he’s making it for the same purpose. He’s trying to get you back.” He paused and then hurried on for fear that prudence might restrain him. “He wouldn’t have thought of you, if I hadn’t been in the way. It’s a trial of strength against me. Go on.”
Ivy winced, and the pupils of her eyes dilated.
“I told him that things had changed,” she explained. “I said—it wasn’t true—I said that I’d always believed in him, but there was a time when I was frightened... I reminded him of everything—the night when he said ‘If that’s your opinion of me, we’d better call the engagement off.’ I reminded him of the woman I’d seen him driving home with. He said....”
“Well?”
“He said, ‘I’ve never pretended to be a saint. When I was knocked out in the war, I saw everything differently. Most people would cut me, if they knew anything of my private life; I drink too much, I do this and that... I could put up a case, if I thought it worth while, but I don’t. You knew all this the first night we met. I didn’t pretend to be better than my neighbour, I daresay I’m a lot worse; I don’t know and I don’t care. But I’m the same as I was that first night. I loved you then—and I’ve never loved another woman before or since. I asked you to marry me then; and I’m in a position—I soon shall be, at least—to make good.’ Then he sort of left it to me... I’d thought of all kinds of bitter, horrid things to say, but I didn’t want to. I think he meant it. I felt the only thing to do was to be cold and dignified. I said, ‘There was a time when I thought I was in love with you. I’ve changed since then. I thought you’d broken your promise to me, I lost faith in you. Perhaps I never properly loved you, but, if I lived to be a thousand, I could never love you or trust you again’... While I said it, I felt that I might be terribly wrong, but it was—instinct. He looked at me... Then he looked at his watch... Then he said, ‘We’d better be getting back, or we shall be late for tea.’ Eric...”