He was flesh and
blood and still regarded me urbanely. It was horrible. The
desertion of the scoundrelly husband, who I thought was lost
somewhere in the cesspool of Europe, was the basis, the sanction
of the relations between Judith and myself; and here was this
reverend, respectable man apologising for his wife and begging me
to be seated in my own chair. The remark of Judith's that I
should find sabbatical calm in the drawing-room occurred to me,
and I had to grip the arms of the chair to prevent myself from
joining Judith in her hysterics.
The appearance of the husband in his legendary colours of
rascality would have been a shock. The sudden scattering of
my plans for Judith's happiness I should have viewed with
consternation. But it would have been normal. For him, however,
to appear in the guise of an Evangelical clergyman, the very last
kind of individual to be associated with Judith, was, I repeat,
horribly fantastic.
"I believe, Sir Marcus," said he, deliberately parting the tails
of his exaggerated frock-coat and sitting down near me, " that
you are a very great friend of my wife.
Pages:
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345