England -- Fiction; Socialism -- Fiction; Socialists -- Fiction
Her confidence, together with his actual ignorance of what Rodman had
heard, troubled him with doubt.
‘Answer this question,’ he said. ‘Did you make an appointment with that
man?’
‘I did not.’
‘You did not? Yet you met him?’
‘Unexpectedly.’
‘But you talked with him?’
‘How can you ask? You know that I did.’
He collected his thoughts.
‘Repeat to me what you talked about.’
‘That I refuse to do.’
‘Of course you do!’ he cried, driven to frenzy. ‘And you think I
shall let this rest where it is? Have you forgotten that I came to the
Westlakes and found Eldon there with you? And what was he doing in this
street this morning if he hadn’t come to see you? I begin to understand
why you were so precious eager about giving up the will. That was your
fine sense of honesty, of course! You are full of fine senses, but your
mistake is to think I’ve no sense at all. What do you take me for?’
The thin crust of refinement was shattered; the very man came to light,
coarse, violent, whipped into fury by his passions, of which injured
self-love was not the least. Whether he believed his wife guilty or not
he could not have said; enough that she had kept things secret from
him, and that he could not overawe her. Whensoever he had shown anger in
conversation with her, she had made him sensible of her superiority; at
length he fell back upon his brute force and resolved to bring her to
his feet, if need be by outrage. Even his accent deteriorated as he
flung out his passionate words; he spoke like any London mechanic, with
defect and excess of aspirates, with neglect of g’s at the end of words,
and so on. Adela could not bear it; she moved to the door. But he caught
her and thrust her back; it was all but a blow. Her face half recalled
him to his senses.
‘Where are you going?’ he stammered.
‘Anywhere, anywhere, away from this house and from you!’ Adela replied.
Effort to command herself was vain; his heavy hand had completed the
effect of his language, and she, too, spoke as nature impelled her. ‘Let
me pass! I would rather die than remain here!’
‘All the same, you’ll stay where you are!’
‘Yes, your strength is greater than mine. You can hold me by force. But
you have insulted me beyond forgiveness, and we are as much strangers
as if we had never met. You have broken every bond that bound me to you.
You can make me your prisoner, but like a prisoner my one thought will
be of escape. I will touch no food whilst I remain here. I have no
duties to you, and you no claim upon me!’
‘All the same, you stay!’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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