'It is because, my dear, you don't care the ghost of a straw for
either. That one--he was worn out long ago, and we never knew it.
I know it now. Time and the sheer going-on of day by day, without
either of us guessing at it, wore that down till it had no more
meaning for you or me than any other faded remembrance in this
interminable footling with truth that we call life. And this
one--the whole abject meaning of it lies simply in the fact that
it has pierced down and shown us up. I had no courage. I couldn't
see how feeble a hold I had on life--just one's friends'
opinions. It was all at second hand. What I want to know now is--
leave me out; don't think, or care, or regard my living-on one
shadow of an iota--all I ask is, What am I to do for you?' He
turned away and stood staring down at the cinders in the fireless
grate.

'I answer that mad wicked outburst with one plain question,' said
a low, trembling voice; 'did you or did you not go to Widderstone
yesterday?'

'I did go.'

'You sat there, just as you said you sat before; and with all
your heart and soul strove to regain--yourself?'

Lawford lifted a still, colourless face into the sunlight. 'No,'
he said; 'I spent the evening at the house of a friend.'

'Then I say it is infamous. You cast all this on me. You have
brought me into contempt and poisoned Alice's whole life. You
dream and idle on just as you used to do, without the least care