XXV
Siegmund passed the afternoon in a sort of stupor. At tea time Beatrice, who had until then kept herself in restraint, gave way to an outburst of angry hysteria.
“When does your engagement at the Comedy Theatre commence?” she had asked him coldly.
He knew she was wondering about money.
“To-morrow—if ever,” he had answered.
She was aware that he hated the work. For some reason or other her anger flashed out like sudden lightning at his “if ever.”
“What do you think you can do?” she cried. “For I think you have done enough. We can’t do as we like altogether—indeed, indeed we cannot. You have had your fling, haven’t you? You have had your fling, and you want to keep on. But there’s more than one person in the world. Remember that. But there are your children, let me remind you. Whose are they? You talk about shirking the engagement, but who is going to be responsible for your children, do you think?”
“I said nothing about shirking the engagement,” replied Siegmund, very coldly.
“No, there was no need to say. I know what it
222
