“I don’t wish to forget,” he answered, shaking his head. “It’s possible that you will hear from Margaret. She’ll want the things that she has left here, and I daresay will write to you. I should like you to tell her that I bear her no ill-will for anything she has done, and I will never venture to reproach her. I don’t know if I shall be able to do anything for her, but I wish her to know that in any case and always I will do everything that she wants.”
“If she writes to me, I will see that she is told,” answered Susie gravely.
“And now goodbye.”
“You can’t go to London till tomorrow. Shan’t I see you in the morning?”
“I think if you don’t mind, I won’t come here again. The sight of all this rather disturbs me.”
Again a contraction of pain passed across his eyes, and Susie saw that he was using a superhuman effort to preserve the appearance of composure. She hesitated a moment.
“Shall I never see you again?” she said. “I should be sorry to lose sight of you entirely.”
“I should be sorry, too,” he answered. “I have learned how good and kind you are, and I shall never forget that you are Margaret’s friend. When you come to London, I hope that you will let me know.”
He went out. Dr Porhoët, his hands behind his back, began to walk up and down the room. At last he turned to Susie.
“There is one thing that puzzles me,” he said. “Why did he marry her?”