“Of course I shall be delighted if you’ll come,” pursued the orator. “I shall speak just before dinner. Won’t you dine afterwards? I’m afraid the dinner they give you is very bad.”
“He won’t mind that after he’s heard you speak, Paul,” said Mrs. Castillyon.
A faint smile flickered on her lips at the success of this manœuvre. Mr. Castillyon turned blandly to Miss Ley, with the little shake of his whole body which announced a display of eloquence. Frank and Basil immediately jumped up and bade Miss Ley farewell; they walked together towards the Embankment, and for awhile neither spoke.
“I wanted to talk to you, Frank,” said Basil at last. “I’m thinking of going abroad for the winter.”
“Are you? What about the Bar?”
“I don’t mind about that. After all, I have enough to live on, and I mean to have a shot if I can do any real good as a writer. Besides, I want to break with Jenny, and I can think of no kinder way to do it.”
“I think you’re very wise.”
“Oh, I wish I hadn’t got into this mess, Frank. I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid she’s grown a good deal fonder of me than I ever thought she would, and I don’t want to cause her pain. I can’t bear it when I think of the wretchedness she’ll suffer—and yet we can’t go on as we are.”
Frank remained silent, with compressed lips and a stern look on his face. Basil divined the unspoken censure, and burst out passionately.
“Oh, I know I oughtn’t to have given way. D’you think I’ve not bitterly regretted? I never thought she’d take it any more seriously than I did. And, after all, I’m a man like any other. I have passions as other men have. I suppose most men in my place would have done as I did.”