did to me. You made me worse than I was, Basil."
"Don't say that—it isn't true!" he cried. "Haven't you given me enough? … It isn't only for myself I feel this," he went on. "It's for you, too. It's because I know in the end it's always the woman that pays. If you injure our life together, you'll pay even more than I shall. If you, being what you are, should have a lover, you'd have to pay for that—pay in injury to your pride, in a thousand ways. A woman that gives herself to a man who doesn't deeply love her—a woman who has anything to lose—is a fool. The reaction takes him away from her, as sure as fate, and even a man who isn't a brute can't help making her feel it. You've nothing to gain in that game, Teresa, and everything to lose. And first of all you lose me—if you care anything about me. For I tell you, I couldn't stand it. If you did that sort of thing again, I believe I'd kill you—at least I'd take myself off where you'd never see me again … I've had more than one impulse to do it, anyway."
"What—kill me?" said Teresa, with a wan smile.
"No, go away from you. I'm not sure that I shan't, as it is. I can never believe now that you really care about me. You might find somebody else, who'd make you happier. You've always disliked a lot about me, anyway."
