‘Oh, well!’ he said, ‘it doesn’t matter, only he’ll be able to get heavy
damages, and I wanted to clear him out. It’s the fortune of war. Well,
I’m going. Good-day.’
He had walked across to the door and laid his hand upon the latch ere
Haidee comprehended the meaning of his words. Then she sprang up with a
scream.
‘And what of me?’ she cried. ‘Am I to be left here?’
‘You brought yourself here,’ he retorted, eyeing her evilly. ‘I did not
ask you to come.’
She stared at him open-mouthed as if he were some strange thing that had
come into her line of vision for the first time. Her breath began to
come and go in gasps. She was an elementary woman, but at this treatment
from the man she had known as her lover a natural indignation sprang up
in her and she began to find words.
‘But this!’ she said, with a nearer approach to honesty than she had
ever known, ‘this is--desertion!’
‘I am under no vow to you,’ he said.
‘You have implied it. I trusted you.’
‘As Lucian trusted you,’ he sneered.
She became speechless again. Something in her looks brought Darlington
back from the door to her side.
‘Look here, Haidee,’ he said, not unkindly, ‘don’t be a little fool. Go
home quickly and settle things with your husband. Tell him you wrote
that letter in a fit of temper; tell him--oh, tell him any of the lies
that women invent so easily on these occasions! It’s absolutely
hopeless to look to me for protection, absolutely impossible for me to
give it----’
He stopped. She was staring at him in a strange way--the way in which a
dumb animal might stare if the butcher who was about to kill it
condescended to try to explain to it why it was necessary that he should
presently cut its throat. Darlington hummed and ha’d when he caught that
look. He cast a furtive glance at the door and half turned away from
Haidee.
‘Yes, quite impossible,’ he repeated. ‘The fact is--well, you may as
well knew it now as hear it later on--I am going to be married.’
She nodded her head as if she quite understood his meaning, and he,
looking full at her again, noticed that she was trying to moisten her
lips with the tip of her tongue, and that her eyes were dilated to an
unusual degree.
‘You can’t say that I’ve treated you badly,’ he said. ‘After all, you
had the first chance, and it wasn’t my fault if you threw it away.
There, now, be sensible and go back to London and make it up with
Damerel. You can easily get round him--he’ll believe anything you tell
him. Say you were upset at the thought of going to Italy with him, and
lost your head. Things will come all right if you only manage your cards
properly. Well, I’m going--good-day.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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