fact I think you’re probably right. But this isn’t the usual sort of thing between Anne and me.”
I told him that people had been saying that particular phrase since the dawn of time, and a queer little smile creased his lips.
“You mean everyone thinks their case is unique? Perhaps so. But one thing you must believe.”
He assured me that so far—“there was nothing wrong in it.” Anne, he said, was one of the truest and most loyal women that ever lived. What was going to happen he didn’t know.
“If this were only a book,” he said gloomily, “the old man would die—and a good riddance to everybody.”
I reproved him.
“Oh! I didn’t mean I was going to stick him in the back with a knife, though I’d offer my best thanks to anyone else who did so. There’s not a soul in the world who’s got a good word to say for him. I rather wonder the first Mrs. Protheroe didn’t do him in. I met her once, years ago, and she looked quite capable of it. One of those calm dangerous women. He goes blustering along, stirring up trouble everywhere, mean as the devil, and with a particularly nasty temper. You don’t know what Anne has had to stand from him. If I had a penny in the world I’d take her away without any more ado.”
Then I spoke to him very earnestly. I begged him to leave St. Mary Mead. By remaining there, he could only bring greater unhappiness on Anne Protheroe than was already her lot. People would talk, the matter would get to Colonel Protheroe’s ears—and things would be made infinitely worse for her.
Lawrence protested.