"Yes, on the assumption that she told me the truth. She asked if she might come and see me, and I told her to do so whenever she wished. I needn't say that I shall write and withdraw this invitation." Elgar hesitated before replying. "I'm afraid you can't do that. You have tact enough to end the acquaintance gradually." "Indeed I have not, Reuben. I either condemn her or pity her; I can't shuffle contemptibly between the two." "Of course you prefer to pity her!" he exclaimed impatiently. "There comes in the idealism of which I was speaking. The vulgar woman's instinct would be to condemn her; naturally enough, you take the opposite course. You like to think nobly of people, with the result that more often than not you will be wrong. You don't know the world." "And I am very young; pray finish the formula. But why do you prefer to take the side of 'the vulgar woman' of whom you speak? I see that you have no evidence against Mrs. Travis; why lean towards condemnation?" "Well, I'll put it in another way. A woman who lives apart from her husband is always amid temptations, always in doubtful circumstances. Friends who put faith in her may, of course, keep up their intimacy; but a slight acquaintance, and particularly one in your position, will get harm by associating with her. This is simple and obvious enough." "If you knew for certain that she was blameless, you would speak in the same way?" "If it regarded you, I should. Not if Mrs. Lessingham were in question." "That is a distinction which repeats your distrust. We won't say any more about it. I will bear in mind my want of experience, and in future never act without consulting you." She moved towards the door. "You are coming?" "Look here, Ciss, you are not so foolish as to misunderstand me. When I said that I distrusted your discretion, I meant, of course, that you might innocently do things which would make people talk about you. There is no harm in reminding you of the danger." "Perhaps not; though it would be more like yourself to scorn people's talk." "That is only possible if we chose to go back to our life of solitude. I'm afraid it wouldn't suit you very well now." "No; I am far too eager to see my name in fashionable lists. Has not all my life pointed to that noble ambition?" She regarded him with a smile from her distance, a smile that trembled a little about her lips, and in which her clear eyes had small part. Elgar, without replying, began to turn down the lamp. "This is what has made you so absent and uneasy for the last week or two?" Cecily added. The lamp was extinguished "Yes, it is," answered Elgar's voice in the darkness. "I don't like the course things have been taking." "Then you were quite right to speak plainly. Be at rest; you shall have no more anxiety."