He looked clean through Frederic and made no sign of recognition, but passed on with his heavy rolling stride. Frederic fell in by his side like a terrier trying to attract the attention of a Newfoundland.
"I wonder what they've said to him. I suppose he's devilish angry."
And he fell to counting up his income and his debts, and wondering exactly how cheaply he could live in lodgings.
They walked for about half a mile in that fashion and it was Frederic who broke the silence.
"I didn't mean to leave you like that. I meant to have it all out in one grand scene. I didn't jib at it. I'm not a coward. Only suddenly it seemed to me so absurdly melodramatic. I couldn't stand it so I cleared out . . ."
"I don't think any explanation is necessary," replied Francis in a curious toneless voice.
"By George! He _is_ angry!" thought Frederic.
"I only want to know one thing," said Francis. "Did you seduce the young woman with a promise of marriage?"
Frederic stole a glance at his father. It was such an odd question coming from him!
"There was never anything said of marriage from beginning to end. There never is in these cases. It's so casual, you know. It seems to me jolly unfair that it should have the same result as when you are in dead earnest . . ."
"Only our two selves, Annie and her mother--oh! and Annette."
Francis was really angry. The thing had touched his new affection, the treasure of his life, and by that test he saw it in its ugliness and sordidness. For the first time he was wholly human. His one thought was to protect Annette.
"Are you going to marry this girl?" he asked.
"After this do you expect me to allow you to stay in my house?"
"Very well then. Only you lose the right to interfere in the matter, or in my affairs in any way."
"I never have interfered in your affairs."
"No. . . . You'll let me come and see my mother?"
That brought Francis up short. (Frederic knew it would.) Frederic was his mother's favourite. His absence from the house or presence in it made an extraordinary difference to her mood. Lately she had grown very jealous of Annette. . . . Francis fumbled for some means of withdrawing the decree of banishment, and he said a little pompously:
"The young woman told me that she was only anxious to get away. I must help her to do that."