While he was actually speaking he was sustained by the white heat of his impatience, but the moment he had stopped he was bitterly ashamed of himself. What had he done? What had he said? And April’s silence accentuated his shame. She neither turned angrily upon him nor burst into tears. She sat quietly, her hands clasped in front of her knees, looking at the floor.
After a while she rose and walked across to the window. Her back was turned to him. He felt that he must do something to shatter the poignant silence. He drew close to her and touched her hand with his, but she drew her hand away quietly, without haste or anger.
But she stopped him. “Don’t say anything. Please don’t say anything.”
“But I must, April. I’ve been a beast. I didn’t mean it.”
“It’s quite all right. I’ve been very foolish. There’s nothing more to be said.”
Her voice was calm and level. She kept her back turned to him, distant and unapproachable. He did not know what to do nor what to say. He had been a beast to her. He knew it. And because he had wronged her, because she had made him feel ashamed of himself, he was angry with her.
“Oh, very well then,” he said. “If you won’t talk to me, I’m going home.”
He turned and walked out of the room. In the porch he waited for a moment, thinking that she would call after him. But no sound came from the drawing-room, not even the rustle of clothes, that might have indicated the change of her position. “Oh, well,” he said, “if she’s going to sulk, let her sulk,” and he walked out of the house.
For the rest of the day he endured the humiliating discomfort of contrition. He was honest with himself. He made no attempt to excuse his behavior. There was no excuse for it. He had behaved like a cad. There was only one thing to do and that was to grovel as soon as possible. It would be an undignified proceeding, but he was quite ready to do it, if he could be certain that the performance would be accepted in the right spirit. It was not easy to grovel before a person who turned her back on you, looked out of the window and refused to listen to what you had to say.
When evening came he decided that he might do worse than make a reconnaissance of the enemy’s country under the guidance of an armed escort--in other words, that if he paid a visit to the Curtises’ with his father he would be able to see April without having the embarrassment of a private talk forced on him.