“No, Stephen, no⁠—at least⁠—” and she stopped, thinking now of John, trying conscientiously to realize what was owed to him. Then she went on, in a broken torrent of pleading, “No, Stephen, it’s gone on so long now⁠—a little more won’t matter to him⁠—surely, Stephen⁠—and nobody really thinks he did it⁠— nobody , Stephen. It’s only people like Mrs. Vincent, Mrs. Ambrose was saying so only yesterday⁠—and it would mean⁠—it would mean⁠—what would it mean, Stephen⁠—Stephen, tell me?” But as she imagined what this would mean to Stephen she stood shuddering before him, her big eyes staring piteously at him.

“It would mean⁠—O God, Margery, I don’t know⁠—” and he turned away.