back to
Gyp, sitting on the oaken chest, making her confession; and the whips and
stings of it scored him worse than ever.

X

That same evening, standing at the corner of Bury Street, Summerhay
watched Gyp going swiftly to her father's house. He could not bring
himself to move while there was still a chance to catch a glimpse of her
face, a sign from her hand. Gone! He walked away with his head down.
The more blissful the hours just spent, the greater the desolation when
they are over. Of such is the nature of love, as he was now discerning.
The longing to have her always with him was growing fast. Since her
husband knew--why wait? There would be no rest for either of them in an
existence of meetings and partings like this, with the menace of that
fellow. She must come away with him at once--abroad--until things had
declared themselves; and then he must find a place where they could live
and she feel safe and happy. He must show he was in dead earnest, set
his affairs in order. And he thought: 'No good doing things by halves.
Mother must know. The sooner the better. Get it over--at once!' And,
with a grimace of discomfort, he set out for his aunt's house in Cadogan
Gardens, where his mother always stayed when she was in town.

Lady Summerhay was in the boudoir, waiting for dinner and reading a book
on dreams. A red-shaded lamp cast a mellow tinge over the grey frock,
over one reddish cheek and one white shoulder. She was a striking
person, tall and well built, her very blonde hair only just turning grey,
for she had married young and been a widow fifteen years--one of those
women whose naturally free spirits have been netted by association with
people of public position. Bubbles were still rising from her submerged
soul, but it was obvious that it would not again set eyes on the horizon.
With views neither narrow nor illiberal, as views in society go, she
judged everything now as people of public position must--discussion, of
course, but no alteration in one's way of living. Speculation and ideas
did not affect social usage. The countless movements in which she and
her friends were interested for the emancipation and benefit of others
were, in fact, only channels for letting off her superfluous goodwill,
conduit-pipes, for the directing spirit bred in her. She thought and
acted in terms of the public good, regulated by what people of position
said at luncheon and dinner. And it was surely not h