the time has passed more easily. Now the matter will end just as it began,—not because I am tired of him or because I care for what people say, but because I think it is time,—and I choose that it should. It is done with from to-night."
"Good heaven!" he cried. "You are not going to drop the poor fellow like that?"
"You may call it what you please," she returned. "I have gone as far as I choose to go, and it is done with from to-night."
Mr. Ffrench's excitement became something painful to see. Between his embarrassment as a weak nature before a strong one,—an embarrassment which was founded upon secret fear of unpleasant results,—between this and the natural compunctions arising from tendencies toward a certain refined and amiable sense of fairness, he well-nigh lost all control over himself and became courageous. He grew heated and flushed and burst forth into protest.
"My dear," he said, "I must say it's a—a deuced ungentlemanly business!"
Her lack of response absolutely inspired him.
"It's a deuced ill-bred business," he added, "from first to last."
She did not reply even to that, so he went on, growing warmer and warmer.
"You have taunted me with being afraid of you," he said, "though you have never put it into so many words. Perhaps I have been afraid of you. You can make yourself confoundedly unpleasant at times,—and I may have shrunk from saying what would rouse you,—but I must speak my mind about this, and say it is a deucedly cruel and unfair thing, and is unworthy of you. A less well-bred woman might have done it."
