"
Philippa's cheeks were suddenly white. Her eyes flashed. His words
had stung her to the quick.
"A coward?" she repeated furiously. "You dare to call Henry that?"
Lessingham rose abruptly to his feet. He moved restlessly about the
room. His fists were clenched, his tone thick with passion.
"I do!" he pronounced. "Philippa, look at this matter without
prejudice. Do you believe that there is a single man of any country,
of your husband's age and rank, who would be content to trawl the
seas for fish whilst his country's blood is being drained dry? Who
would weigh a codling," he added, pointing scornfully to the scales,
"whilst the funeral march of heroes is beating throughout the world?
The thing is insensate, impossible!"
Philippa's head drooped. Her hands were nervously intertwined.
"Don't!" she pleaded, "I have suffered so much."
"Forgive me," he begged, with a sudden change of voice. "If I am
mistaken in your husband--and there is always the chance--I am
sorry. I will confess that I myself had a different opinion of him,
but I can only judge from what I have seen and from that there is
no one in the world who would not agree with me that your husband
is unworthy of you."
"Oh, please stop!" Philippa cried. "Stop at once!"
Lessingham came back to his place by her side. His voice was still
shaking, but it had grown very soft.
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