In Hugh’s present outburst, however, she detected some special determining cause.
“I’m a very limited being, my dear Hugh,” she said quickly, “whatever exaggerations I let you use. But you know how deep my interest in your welfare is, and life could not go wrong with you without causing me--and Gerard--pain and anxiety. That was why I spoke. Whatever it is, I am sorry.”
Sympathy could not have been more delicately conveyed than it was by her tone and look. But there are times when sympathy stings. He remained silent for a moment, then shifted his position, threw back his head and twirled his great moustache.
“You are everything that is sweet, Renie,” said he. “But I was telling you general truths--not posing as _un homme manqué_. I hate the kind of fellows that are forever mewing about for women’s sympathy. It’s despicable!”
He rose, and, with two arms held out, took her hands and raised her from her chair.
“There. Don’t be hurt. Everything’s going on swimmingly, I assure you. The world at my feet, and heaven at my finger tips. Let us go to Gerard.” The smoking-room was a nondescript apartment, half library, half gun-room, suggestive more of the country squire than the London barrister. Gerard, with a glass of water on a little table by his side, was engaged upon his casts, screwing up his eyes, so as both to avoid the smoke of his pipe and to see the delicate involutions of his knots. He looked up, with a nod, when his wife and friend entered. Irene turned to a desk to scribble a note. The men’s talk turned upon fishing. Weston had killed a two-pound trout the day before. They discussed the chances of a similar prize for Gerard. Then came the question of flies. Gerard waxed learned. Irene, having written her note and finding herself out of the conversation, took up a book. Gerard’s love of sport she indulgently allowed, but in her heart she could not sympathise with it. The wilful infliction of pain passed her comprehension. There was so much of it in the world already.
She was glad when she became aware of a change of topic, and drew her chair nearer the fire. But Hugh, looking at his watch, rose to depart. Irene protested.
There was a touch of dismay in her tone. Gerard, too, bade him sit down again. But he pleaded work. He had been briefed in a hurry, had not a notion yet of the case which was coming on immediately.