I went there to-day. It all seems to mean so much. It's all so terrible and their self-sacrifice is so wonderful; I can't help feeling it's absurd and disproportionate, if you understand what I mean, to distress yourself because a foolish woman has been unfaithful to you. I'm much too worthless and insignificant for you to give me a thought."
He did not answer, but he did not move away; he seemed to be waiting for her to continue.
"Mr. Waddington and the nuns have told me such wonderful things about you. I'm very proud of you, Walter."
"You used not to be; you used to feel contempt for me. Don't you still?"
"Don't you know that I'm afraid of you?"
Again he was silent.
"I don't understand you," he said at last. "I don't know what it is you want."
"Nothing for myself. I only want you to be a little less unhappy."
She felt him stiffen and his voice was very cold when he answered.
"You're mistaken in thinking I'm unhappy. I have a great deal too much to do to think of you very often."
"I have wondered if the nuns would allow me to go and work at the convent. They are very shorthanded and if I could be of any help I should be grateful to them."
"It is not easy work or pleasant work. I doubt if it would amuse you long."
"Do you absolutely despise me, Walter?"
"No." He hesitated and his voice was strange. "I despise myself."
XLVII
IT was after dinner. As usual Walter sat by the lamp and read. He read every evening till Kitty went to bed and then went into a laboratory which he had fitted up in one of the bungalow's empty rooms. Here he worked late into the night. He slept little. He was occupied with she knew not what experiments. He told her nothing of his work; but even in the old days he had been reticent on this: he was not by nature expansive. She thought deeply of what he had just said to her: the conversation had led to nothing. She knew him so little that she could not be sure if he was speaking the truth or not. Was it possible that, whereas he now existed so ominously for her, she had entirely ceased to exist for him? Her conversation, which had entertained him once because he loved her, now that he loved her no longer might be merely tedious to him. It mortified her.
She looked at him. The light of the lamp displayed his profile as though it were a cameo. With his regular and finely-cut features it was very distinguished, but it was more than severe, it was grim: that immobility of his, only his eyes moving as he perused each page, was vaguely terrifying. Who would have thought that this hard face could be melted by passion to such a tenderness of expression? She knew and it excited in her a little shiver of distaste. It was strange that though he was good-looking as well as honest, reliable, and talented, it had been so impossible for her to love him. It was a relief that she need never again submit to his caresses.
He would not answer when she had asked him whether in forcing her to come here he had really wished to kill her. The mystery of this fascinated and horrified her. He was so extraordinarily kind; it was incredible that he could have had such a devilish intention. He must have suggested it only to frighten her and to get back on Charlie (that would be like his sardonic humour) and then from obstinacy or from fear of looking foolish insisted on her going through with it.
Yes, he said he despised himself. What did he mean by that? Once again Kitty looked at his calm cool face. She might not even be in the room, he was so unconscious of her.
"Why do you despise yourself?" she asked, hardly knowing that she spoke, as though she were continuing without a break the earlier conversation. He put down his book and observed her reflectively. He seemed to gather his thoughts from a remote distance.
"Because I loved you."
She flushed and looked away. She could not bear his cold, steady, and appraising gaze. She understood what he meant. It was a little while before she answered.
"I think you do me an injustice," she said, "It's not fair to blame me because I was silly and frivolous and vulgar. I was brought up like that. All