“You are taking this method to force me to put an end to my work.”
Helen winced. “Is that fair, Jack? What have I said to you every time the subject has been mentioned?”
“You have told me to go ahead, and then you have shown quite plainly by every action that you did not mean it.”
“Jack Armstrong!” She was indignant at his gross injustice.
“What have I said each time the subject has come up?” continued Armstrong. “You have had every opportunity to have your own way in this as in all other matters. I repeat it now—is it your wish that I stop my work? Say but the word and I will never enter that library again.”
Helen was hurt through and through. To what avail was her sacrifice if it be so little understood, so little appreciated?
“I don’t wish to be misunderstood in this,” added Armstrong, as if in answer to her thoughts. “I quite realize that I have asked much of you who can understand so little of what my book means to me. I have been entirely frank, and have accepted from you the time which rightfully belongs to you in the spirit, as I supposed, in which you gave it to me. If you did not mean what you said, you have but to tell me so and it shall be exactly as you wish.”
“I have meant every word I have said, Jack,” replied Helen, in a low, strained voice. “I have been glad to contribute in the only way I could to anything which means so much to you. I simply ask you now whether it is necessary for this absorption to include all of yourself even when you are away from it. I did not suppose that this was essential.”
“You are exaggerating the situation out of all proportion.”
“I wish I were, Jack.”