“It evidently hasn’t occurred to you that the manners of Peckham Rye are not altogether suitable to South Kensington,” smiled the Canon, blandly.
“Well?”
“Winnie has requested me to tell you that she finds she does not care for you enough to marry you. She regrets the inconvenience and unhappiness that she has caused, and desires you to release her.”
Bertram grew white and he gathered himself together as a wild beast might, driven to bay.
“It’s a lie!” he cried, furiously. “It’s a lie!”
The Canon replied with the utmost calm.
“You will have the goodness to remember that I am a minister of the Church and a son of the late Lord Chancellor of England.”
“If it’s true, you’ve forced her to give me up. I know she loves me.”
“You may think what you choose, Mr. Railing. The fact remains that she wishes to break off her engagement with you. As a man of honour there is obviously but one course open to you.”
“You tell me I’m a man of honour and you treat me like a lackey. Do you think you can dismiss me like a servant? Don’t you know that my whole life’s happiness is at stake? She can’t send me away like that. It’s not true, it’s not true.”