thinking about these things. Oh, I'm not jealous, dear. I love you for loving her. I love you in relation to her. But there it is, an added weight against us, another thing worth saving.”
Presently, I remember, she sat back on her heels and looked up into my face. “We've done wrong—and parting's paying. It's time to pay. We needn't have paid, if we'd kept to the track.... You and I, Master, we've got to be men.”
“Yes,” I said; “we've got to be men.”
4
I was driven to tell Margaret about our situation by my intolerable dread that otherwise the thing might come to her through some stupid and clumsy informant. She might even meet Altiora, and have it from her.
I can still recall the feeling of sitting at my desk that