‘Without the jibe at my poverty,’ Tarrant said, ‘that is a sufficient answer. As we can’t even pretend to be friendly with each other, I am very glad there need be no talk of our future relations. You are provided for, and no doubt will take care not to lose the provision. If ever you prefer to forget that we are legally bound, I shall be no obstacle.’ ‘I have thought of that,’ replied Nancy, after a pause, her voice expressing satisfaction. ‘Perhaps we should do better to make the understanding at once. You are quite free; I should never acknowledge you as my husband.’ ‘You seriously mean it?’ ‘Do I seem to be joking?’ ‘Very well. I won’t say that I should never acknowledge you as my wife; so far from that, I hold myself responsible whenever you choose to make any kind of claim upon me. But I shall not dream of interfering with your liberty. If ever you wish to write to me, you may safely address to the house at Champion Hill.--And remember always,’ he added sternly, ‘that it was not I who made such a parting necessary.’ Nancy returned his look through the gloom, and said in like tone: ‘I shall do my best never to think of it at all. Fortunately, my time and my thoughts are occupied.’ ‘How?’ Tarrant could not help asking, as she turned away; for her tone implied some special significance in the words. ‘You have no right to ask anything whatever about me,’ came from Nancy, who was already moving away. He allowed her to go. ‘So it is to be as I wished,’ he said to himself, with mock courage. ‘So much the better.’ And he went home to a night of misery. CHAPTER 6