Benham went into the study that reduplicated his former rooms in Finacue Street and sat down before the fire the butler lit for him. He sent the man to bed, and fell into profound meditation.
It was nearly two o'clock when he heard the sound of her latchkey and went out at once upon the landing.
The half-door stood open and Easton's car was outside. She stood in the middle of the hall and relieved Easton of the gloves and fan he was carrying.
She yielded herself to his accustomed embrace, then started, stared, and wrenched herself out of his arms.
Benham stood at the top of the stairs looking down upon them, white-faced and inexpressive. Easton dropped back a pace. For a moment no one moved nor spoke, and then very quietly Easton shut the half-door and shut out the noises of the road.
For some seconds Benham regarded them, and as he did so his spirit changed....
Everything he had thought of saying and doing vanished out of his mind.
He stuck his hands into his pockets and descended the staircase. When he was five or six steps above them, he spoke. “Just sit down here,” he said, with a gesture of one hand, and sat down himself upon the stairs. “DO sit down,” he said with a sudden testiness as they continued standing. “I know all about this affair. Do please sit down and let us talk.... Everybody's gone to bed long ago.”
“Cheetah!” she said. “Why have you come back like this?”
Then at his mute gesture she sat down at his feet.
“I wish you would sit down, Easton,” he said in a voice of subdued savagery.
“Why have you come back?” Sir Philip Easton found his voice to ask.
“SIT down,” Benham spat, and Easton obeyed unwillingly.
“I came back,” Benham went on, “to see to all this. Why else? I don't--now I see you--feel very fierce about it. But it has distressed me. You look changed, Amanda, and fagged. And your hair is untidy. It's as if something had happened to you and made you a stranger.... You two people are lovers. Very natural and simple, but I want to get out of it. Yes, I want to get out of it. That wasn't quite my idea, but now I see it is. It's queer, but on the whole I feel sorry for you. All of us, poor humans--. There's reason to be sorry for all of us. We're full of lusts and uneasiness and resentments that we haven't the will to control. What do you two people want me to do to you? Would you like a divorce, Amanda? It's the clean, straight thing, isn't it? Or would the scandal hurt you?”