And these pretences of mine are
unendurable--I won't make another. This is the real
reason why I can't go to your house: Janet knows
--everything there is to know. I told her--I myself--in
a fit of rage ten days ago, and then she said things and
I said things, and--and there is nothing now between us
any more!"
Lawrence Cardiff looked grave. "I am sorry for that," he
said.
A middle-aged gentleman in apparently hopeless love does
not confide in his grown-up daughter, and Janet's father
had hardly thought of her seriously in connection with
this new relation, which was to him so precarious and so
sweet. Its realization had never been close enough for
practical considerations; it was an image, something in
the clouds; and if he still hoped and longed for its
materialization there were times when he feared even to
regard it too closely lest it should vanish. His first
thought at this announcement of Elfrida's was of what it
might signify of change, what bearing it had upon her
feeling, upon her intention. Then he thought of its
immediate results, which seemed to be unfortunate. But
in the instant he had for reflection he did not consider
Janet at all.
"Ah, yes! It was contemptible--but _contemptible!_ I did
it partly to hurt her, and partly, I think, to gratify
my vanity.
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