"I don't think he means it," she said at last, without trying to blink the truth of Tom's interpretation.
"Women beat me," he broke out. "I don't understand 'em. How should I? I'm not one of these fellows who catch women's fancy--thank God!"
"If you continue to dislike the idea, you'll probably manage to escape the reality," observed Adela, and her tone, for some reason or other--perhaps merely through natural championship of her sex--was rather cold and her manner stiff.
"Oh, some women are all right;" and Adela acknowledged the concession with a satirical bow. "Look here, can't you help?" he burst out. "Tell her what a brute he is."
"Well, then, I shall tell Dennison. He won't stand nonsense of that kind."
"You'll deserve horsewhipping if you do," remarked Adela.
"Nothing. In fact, Mr. Loring, you have no genius for delicate operations."
Adela played with her _pince-nez_ for a minute or two, put it on, looked at him, and then said, with just a touch of unwonted timidity in her voice,
Poor Tom had been a good deal buffeted of late, and a friendly stroking was a pleasant change. He looked up with a smile, but as he looked up Adela looked away.
"I think I'll stop those articles," said he.
"Yes, do," she cried, a bright smile on her face.
"They've pretty well done their work, too."
"Don't! Don't spoil it! But--but don't you get money for them?"
Tom was in better humour now. He held out his hand with his old friendly smile.
"Oh, wait till I am in the workhouse, and then you shall take me out."
"I don't believe I did mean that," protested Adela.
"You always mean everything that--that the best woman in the world could mean," and Tom wrung her hand and disappeared.
Adela's hand was rather crushed and hurt, and for a moment she stood regarding it ruefully.
"I thought he was going to kiss it," she said. "One of those fellows who take women's fancy, perhaps, would have! And--and it wouldn't have hurt so much. Ah, well, I'm very glad he's going to stop the articles."
And the articles did stop; and perhaps things might have fallen out worse than that an honest man, driven hard by bitterness, should do a useful thing from a doubtful motive, and having done just enough of it, should repent and sin no more; for unquestionably the articles prevented a great many persons from paying an unduly high price for Omofaga shares. This line of thought seems defensible, but it was not Adela's. She rejoiced purely that Tom should turn away from the doubtful thing; and if Tom had been a man of greater acuteness, it would have struck him as worthy of note, perhaps even of gratification, that Miss Adela Ferrars should care so much whether he did or did not do doubtful things. But then Miss Ferrars--for it seems useless to keep her secret any longer, the above recorded interview having somewhat impaired its mystery--was an improbably romantic person--such are to be met even at an age beyond twenty-five--and was very naturally ashamed of her weakness. People often are ashamed of being better than their surroundings. Being better they feel better, and feeling better they feel priggish, and then they try not to be better, and happily fail. So Adela was very shamefaced over her ideal, and would as soon have thought of preaching on a platform--of which practice she harboured a most bigoted horror--as of proclaiming the part that love must play in her marriage. The romantic resolve lay snug in its hidden nest, sheltered from cold gusts of ridicule by a thick screen of worldly sayings, and, when she sent away a suitor, of worldly-wise excuses. Thus no one suspected it, not even Tom Loring, although he thought her "the best of women;" a form of praise, by the way, that gave the lady honoured by it less pleasure than less valuable commendation might have done. Why best? Why not most charming? Well, probably because he thought the one and didn't think the other. She was the best; but there was another whose doings and whose peril had robbed Tom Loring of his peace, and made him do the doubtful thing. Why had he done it? Or (and Adela smiled mockingly at this resurrection of the Old Woman), if he did do it, why did he do it for Maggie Dennison? She didn't believe he would ever do a doubtful thing for her. For that she loved him; but perhaps she would have loved him--well, not less--if he did; for how she would forgive him!