'd like to be out of
this affair altogether? Had enough of it, no doubt?"

I might have accepted that suggestion without hurting Banks's
self-respect. I saw the excuse as a possibility that provided an
honourable way of escape. I had but to say, "Well, in a way, yes. I have,
in all innocence, got most confoundedly entangled in an affair that hasn't
anything whatever to do with me, and it seems that the best thing I can do
now is to clear out." He would have believed that. He would have seen the
justice of it. But the moment this easy way of escape was made clear to
me, I knew that I did not want to take it; that in spite of everything, I
wanted, almost passionately, to go to the Home Farm.

I was aware of a sudden clarity of vision. The choice that lay before me
appeared suddenly vital; a climax in my career, a symbol of the essential
choice that would determine my future.

On the one hand was the security of refusal. I could return, unaffected,
to my familiar life. Presently, when the Jervaise nerves had become normal
again, the Jervaises themselves would recognise the egregious blunder they
had made in their treatment of me. They would apologise--through Frank.
And I should go on, as I had begun. I was already decently successful. I
should become more successful. I could look forward to increased financial
security, to a measure of fame, to all that is said to make life worth
living. And as I saw it, then, the whole prospect of that easy future,
appeared to me as hopelessly boring, worthless, futile.

On the other hand...? I had no idea what awaited me on the other hand. I
could see that I should have to accept the stigma that had been put upon
me; that I should be thrown into the company of a young woman whose
personality had extraordinarily attracted me, who probably detested me,
and who might now be engaged to a man I very actively disliked; that I
should involve myself in an affair that had not fully engaged my sympathy
(I still retained my feeling of compassion for old Jervaise); that I
should, in short, be choosing the path of greatest resistance and
unpleasantness, with no possibility of getting any return other than scorn
and disgrace.

I saw these alternatives in a flash, and no sane man would have hesitated
between them for one moment.

"But look here, Banks," I said. "What would your mother and--and your
sister say to having an unknown visitor foisted upon them without notice?"

"Oh! that'd be all ri