Madge turned and fixed her eyes, unobserved, on Baruch. He was looking straight at the bookshelves. There was not, and, indeed, how could there be, any reference to herself.
‘I should put it in this way,’ she said, ‘that he thought he was justified in sacrificing a woman for the sake of an impulse. Call this a defect or a crime—whichever you like—it is repellent to me. It makes no difference to me to know that he believed the impulse to be divine.’
‘I wish,’ interrupted Clara, ‘you two would choose less exciting subjects of conversation; my totals will not come right.’
They were silent, and Baruch, affecting to study a Rollin’s Ancient History, wondered, especially when he called to mind Mrs Caffyn’s report, what this girl’s history could have been. He presently recovered himself, and it occurred to him that he ought to give some reason why he had called. Before, however, he was able to offer any excuse, Clara closed her book.
‘Now, it is right,’ she said, ‘and I am ready.’
Just at that moment Barnes appeared, hot with hurrying.
‘Very sorry, Miss Hopgood, to ask you to stay for a few minutes. I recollected after I left that the doctor particularly wanted those books sent off to-night. I should not like to disappoint him. I have been to the booking-office, and the van will be here in about twenty minutes. If you will make out the invoice and check me, I will pack them.’
‘I will be off,’ said Madge. ‘The shop will be shut if I do not make haste.’
‘You are not going alone, are you?’ said Baruch. ‘May I not go with you, and cannot we both come back for your sister?’
‘It is very kind of you.’