Part 26 (1/2)

”You? But you do not care--as I do.”

He did not heed the interruption.

”It is the system that is at fault,” he said. ”A man has to get on at the sacrifice of his happiness; or he has to be happy at the sacrifice of his position. It is difficult for a woman to realise this. She never has to choose between love and ambition.”

”And you have chosen--ambition,” said Katharine bitterly.

”My child, when you are older you will understand that the very qualities you affect to despise in man now, are the qualities that endear him to you in reality. You are far too fine a woman, Katharine, to love a man who has no ambition. Is it not so?”

She quivered, and lowered her eyes.

”I don't know,” she said. ”It seems so hard.”

”It is terribly hard for both of us,” continued Paul, looking down too. ”But believe me, there would be nothing but unhappiness before us if it were otherwise. I am thinking of you, child, as much as of myself. Marriage for love alone is a ghastly mistake. There, I have said more to you than I have ever said to any woman; I felt you would understand, Katharine.”

He mistook her silence for indifference, and put his arms round her.

But she clung to him closely, and lifted her face to his and broke out into a desperate appeal.

”Paul, don't say those horrid, bitter things! They are not true; I will never believe they are true. Why must you marry for anything so sordid as ambition? Why must you marry at all? Can't we go on being friends? I want to go on being your friend. Paul, don't send me away for ever. I can't go, Paul; I can't! I will work for you, I will be your slave, I will do anything; only don't let it all stop like this.

I can't bear it; I can't! Won't you go on being nice to me, Paul?”

He threw back his head and compressed his lips. He had grown quite white in the last few moments. She sobbed out her entreaties with her face hidden on his shoulder, and wondered why he did not speak to her.

”Why did you never look like that before?” he asked in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. She raised her head and stared at him with large, frightened eyes.

”Like what, Paul? What do you mean?”

He flung her away from him almost roughly.

”You must go,” he said, ”at once.”

She laid her hand on his arm, and looked into his face.

”Why are you so angry?” she asked, wonderingly. ”Is it because I have told you all these things?”

”My G.o.d, no! You must go,” he repeated, vehemently, and pushed her towards the door. She stumbled as she went, and he thought he heard her sob. He sprang to her side instantly, and took her in his arms again.

”Why didn't you go quickly?” he gasped, as he crushed her against him.

His sudden change of manner terrified her. None of the tenderness or the indifference, or any of the expressions she was accustomed to see on his face were there now, and his violence repelled her. She struggled to free herself from his grasp.

”Let me go, Paul!” she pleaded. ”I don't want to stop any more. What is the good of it all? You know I have got to go; don't make it so difficult. Paul, I--I _want_ to go.”

He looked searchingly into her eyes, as though he would have read her inmost thoughts; but he did not see the understanding he had almost hoped to find there, and he laughed shortly and relinquished his hold of her.

”There, go!” he said in an uncertain tone. ”Why did I expect you to know? Your day hasn't come yet. Meanwhile-- Ah! what am I saying?”

”I have annoyed you again,” said Katharine sorrowfully. ”What ought I to have known?”