Chance

Flora said to herself that there was a being who loved her. "Then we

have been haunting each other," she declared with a pang of remorse. For

indeed he had haunted her nearly out of the world, into a final and

irremediable desertion. "Some day I shall tell you . . . No. I don't

think I can ever tell you. There was a time when I was mad. But what's

the good? It's all over now. We shall forget all this. There shall be

nothing to remind us."

De Barral moved his shoulders.

"I should think you were mad to tie yourself to . . . How long is it

since you are married?"

She answered "Not long" that being the only answer she dared to make.

Everything was so different from what she imagined it would be. He

wanted to know why she had said nothing of it in any of her letters; in

her last letter. She said: "It was after."

"So recently!" he wondered. "Couldn't you wait at least till I came out?

You could have told me; asked me; consulted me! Let me see--"

She shook her head negatively. And he was appalled. He thought to

himself: Who can he be? Some miserable, silly youth without a penny. Or

perhaps some scoundrel? Without making any expressive movement he wrung

his loosely-clasped hands till the joints cracked. He looked at her. She

was pretty. Some low scoundrel who will cast her off. Some plausible

vagabond . . . "You couldn't wait--eh?"

Again she made a slight negative sign.

"Why not? What was the hurry?" She cast down her eyes. "It had to be.

Yes. It was sudden, but it had to be."

He leaned towards her, his mouth open, his eyes wild with virtuous anger,

but meeting the absolute candour of her raised glance threw himself back

into his corner again.

"So tremendously in love with each other--was that it? Couldn't let a

father have his daughter all to himself even for a day after--after such

a separation. And you know I never had anyone, I had no friends. What

did I want with those people one meets in the City. The best of them are

ready to cut your throat. Yes! Business men, gentlemen, any sort of men

and women--out of spite, or to get something. Oh yes, they can talk fair

enough if they think there's something to be got out of you . . . " His

voice was a mere breath yet every word came to Flora as distinctly as if

charged with all the moving power of passion . . . "My girl, I looked at

them making up to me and I would say to myself: What do I care for all

that! I am a business man. I am the great Mr. de Barral (yes, yes, some

of them twisted their mouths at it, but I was the great Mr. de Barral)

and I have my little girl. I wanted nobody and I have never had

anybody."