“Oh, I can’t,” cried Philip. “I should be miserable if I thought of her waiting and waiting. You don’t know what it is to be sick for the postman’s knock. I do, and I can’t expose anybody else to that torture.”
“My dear fellow, one can’t break that sort of affair off without somebody suffering. You must just set your teeth to that. One thing is, it doesn’t last very long.”
Philip felt that Norah had not deserved that he should make her suffer; and what did Griffiths know about the degrees of anguish she was capable of? He remembered his own pain when Mildred had told him she was going to be married. He did not want anyone to experience what he had experienced then.
“If you’re so anxious not to give her pain, go back to her,” said Griffiths.
“I can’t do that.”
He got up and walked up and down the room nervously. He was angry with Norah because she had not let the matter rest. She must have seen that he had no more love to give her. They said women were so quick at seeing those things.
“You might help me,” he said to Griffiths.
“My dear fellow, don’t make such a fuss about it. People do get over these things, you know. She probably isn’t so wrapped up in you as you think, either. One’s always rather apt to exaggerate the passion one’s inspired other people with.”
He paused and looked at Philip with amusement.
“Look here, there’s only one thing you can do. Write to her, and tell her the thing’s over. Put it so that there can be no mistake about it. It’ll hurt her, but it’ll hurt her less if you do the thing brutally than if you try half-hearted ways.”