"You have been very good,--very good to come, and I will not say that I regret your trouble. It is best, I think, that we should meet each other once more face to face, so that we may understand each other. There was no understanding anything during those terrible days at Aylmer Park." Then she paused, but as he did not speak at once she went on. "I do not blame you for anything that has taken place, but I am quite sure of this,--that you and I could never be happy together as man and wife." "I do not know why you say so; I do not indeed." "You would disapprove of everything that I should do. You do disapprove of what I am doing now." "Disapprove of what?" "I am staying with my friend, Mrs. Askerton." He felt that this was hard upon him. As she had shown herself inclined to withdraw herself from him, he had become more resolute in his desire to follow her up, and to hold by his engagement. He was not employed now in giving her another chance,--as he had proposed to himself to do,--but was using what eloquence he had to obtain another chance for himself. Lady Aylmer had almost made him believe that Clara would be the suppliant, but now he was the suppliant himself. In his anxiety to keep her he was willing even to pass over her terrible iniquity in regard to Mrs. Askerton,--that great sin which had led to all these troubles. He had once written to her about Mrs. Askerton, using very strong language, and threatening her with his mother's full displeasure. At that time Mrs. Askerton had simply been her friend. There had been no question then of her taking refuge under that woman's roof. Now she had repelled Lady Aylmer's counsels with scorn, was living as a guest in Mrs. Askerton's house; and yet he was willing to pass over the Askerton difficulty without a word. He was willing not only to condone past offences, but to wink at existing iniquity! But she,--she who was the sinner, would not permit of this. She herself dragged up Mrs. Askerton's name, and seemed to glory in her own shame. "I had not intended," said he, "to speak of your friend." "I only mention her to show how impossible it is that we should ever agree upon some subjects,--as to which a husband and wife should always be of one mind. I knew this from the moment in which I got your letter,--and only that I was a coward I should have said so then." "And you mean to quarrel with me altogether?" "No;--why should we quarrel?" "Why, indeed?" said he. "But I wish it to be settled,--quite settled, as from the nature of things it must be, that there shall be no attempt at renewal of our engagement. After what has passed, how could I enter your mother's house?"