Gaisford put on his hat and coat to the accompaniment of a succession of grunts:
“Women don’t—have much temptation—to go on living—with men who beat them.—They still do it, though—even when there are no children,—even when they could run away... You always underrate the strength of sex in a woman; I’m afraid you always will. It’s because you’re an idealist....”
Eric did not go to bed at once. The conversation had excited his brain too much; and he felt that, if he had to meet Ivy in the morning, he must first deal honestly with every objection raised by Gaisford and overcome it or be overcome by it. He started virtuously, as he began to undress, but quickly tired. There was a trace of powder on his looking-glass; he could not see his familiar wash-hand-stand without seeing in imagination Ivy’s slim, black figure bending over it, as she bathed her eyes. And then he knew that he had only listened to Gaisford in order to have some idea what difficulties he had to face.
Already his brain was half-unconsciously making plans, as it had not done since last he had in his life some one who belonged to him, “somebody to work for and take care of.” As he had lived through the day with scarcely a thought for Barbara, so now he could think of her without wincing. He set himself to think of her deliberately, as she used to come into the library, or sit on the floor in front of the fire, resting her head against his knee. Her changes of expression were as familiar as ever; he could conjure up her phrases, her intonation and laugh; the touch of her hand was still felt in his, but he could think of her without pain. That was a silent answer to Gaisford’s questions.
Eric could have put it into words, but he only discovered it when he was alone, when the flat was empty, when he could shut his eyes without seeing Barbara’s wan ghost....
CHAPTER SEVEN
A DOUBLE RESCUE
“One marries a girl and lives with a woman. I think I know something about girls, but I am sure I know nothing about women.”
J. A. Spender: “The Comments of Bagshot.”