"What a word to use from a man who goes
off fishing for whiting, and is lunching at the Carlton, some days
afterwards, with two ladies of extraordinary attractions!"
"That was a trifle awkward," Sir Henry admitted, with a little burst
of candour, "but it goes in with the rest, Philippa."
"Then it can stay with the rest," she retorted, "exactly where I
have placed it in my mind. Please understand me. Your conduct for
the last twelve months absolves me from any tie there may be between
us. If this explanation that you promise comes--in time, and I
feel like it, very well. Until it does, I am perfectly free, and
you, as my husband, are non-existent. That is my reply, Henry, to
your request for further indulgence."
"Rather a foolish one, my dear," he answered, patting her shoulder,
"but then you are rather a child, aren't you?"
She swung away from him angrily.
"Don't touch me!" she exclaimed. "I mean every word of what I have
said. As for my being a child--well, you may be sorry some day
that you have persisted in treating me like one."
Sir Henry paused for a moment, watching her disappearing figure.
There was an unusual shade of trouble in his face. His love for
and confidence in his wife had been so absolute that even her threats
had seemed to him like little morsels of wounded vanity thrown to
him out of the froth of her temper.
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