I wouldn't
take her refusal. 'This other man, you don't really care for him--
you are going to sacrifice yourself! I won't have it! She wept and
moaned, and threatened hysterics; and at last, when I was losing
patience (I can't stand women's idiotic way of flinging themselves
about and making a disturbance, instead of discussing difficulties
calmly), she said at last that, if ever we met in England, she would
explain her position. 'Why not now?'--no, not in the Beckets'
house. Very well then, at least she might make it certain that I
_should_ see her in England. After trouble enough, she at last
consented to this. She was to come back with Mr. Becket and the
boys, and then go to her people. I got her promise that she would
write to me and make an appointment somewhere or other.--More
whisky?"
Glazzard declined; so Denzil replenished his own glass, and went on.
He was now tremulous with the excitement of his reminiscences; he
fidgeted on the chair, and his narrative became more jerky than
ever.
"Her letter came, posted in London. She had taken leave of the
Becket party, and was supposed to be travelling homewards; but she
would keep her word with me. I was to go and see her at an hotel in
the West End. Go, I did, punctually enough; I believe I would have
gone to Yokohama for half an hour of her society. I found her in a
private sitting-room, looking wretched enough, confoundedly ill.
Pages:
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123