“If you wish,” he said nonchalantly. “To begin with, you are the most selfish person I have ever met. You are vain, conceited and a prig. Selfishness runs in all your veins. All your desires are selfish--all your aims are selfish--nay, nearly all your actions have been selfish. The only unselfish part of you was the part I compelled you to assimilate, and that was counterfeit.... God help any man you marry if he loves you. You will ruin him if you can. If you love him too, so much the worse for him.... Do you want me to go on?” She bore all this with amazing calmness. True, she had been in some manner prepared for it, but she had not expected the denunciation to be so severe. What surprised her was that it did not hurt her as much as she had anticipated. She did not answer his question. “So you loved me against your will?” she said reflectively. He nodded. “Every woman likes to be loved like that,” she remarked daringly. This speech of hers seemed to infuriate him. He stopped his walking and turned round to face her. “If you can extract any satisfaction from the knowledge that I loved you against my will, have it!” he cried bitterly. “Nay, I’ll even say this: I love you passionately at this very moment. Take my love!--do what you like with it!--it is no concern of mine when it has once been given to you! ... I tried once to give you intellectual and spiritual sympathy--you showed me that was no use to you! You wanted my love! Well, now you have it, so be satisfied if you can! You have it, and also my profound dislike and contempt!” She thought: If I were to cry now would it have any effect on him? She tried to cry but could not. “Turn back now,” he commanded. They commenced the homeward journey. “Why did you marry Helen?” she asked. “Because I liked her and respected her.” “And because if you married her you felt safe from me, eh?” “If that were a true statement I would never admit it.” “But you do not love her?” “No.” “Does she know?” “She does not know. Do you want her to know?” “I don’t care whether she knows or not.” “Well, then, she shall not know....” They were silent after this for a long while. The tide was creeping in now through the maze of mud-banks: when they stopped talking they could hear the water oozing and splashing amongst the reeds. The thin streak of river had widened into a broad lake, and over it the sea-gulls were flapping their wings and crying weirdly. And far in the west where the estuary vanished into the grey hills the sun was sinking in proud splendour. In the near distance lay the village, with its line of cottages facing the sea-wall. Here and there the sun had picked out a window and turned it into a glittering ruby. Oh, it was all inexpressibly beautiful, this evening picture, with the village and the green meadows and the sun and the rising tide! But Catherine scarcely noticed it. She walked on through the long, stiff grasses, and was thinking only of herself.... § 4