The green shades were reflected in
the glasses of the book-cases that contained not books but guns
with gleaming brown barrels and fishing-rods in green baize
over-covers. There was dimly to be seen, above a mantelpiece
encumbered with spurs, hooves and bronze models of horses, a
dark-brown picture of a white horse.
"If you think," Leonora said, "that I do not know that you are in
love with the girl . . ." She began spiritedly, but she could not find
any ending for the sentence. Edward did not stir; he never spoke.
And then Leonora said:
"If you want me to divorce you, I will. You can marry her then.
She's in love with you."
He groaned at that, a little, Leonora said. Then she went away.
Heaven knows what happened in Leonora after that. She certainly
does not herself know. She probably said a good deal more to
Edward than I have been able to report; but that is all that she has
told me and I am not going to make up speeches. To follow her
psychological development of that moment I think we must allow
that she upbraided him for a great deal of their past life, whilst
Edward sat absolutely silent. And, indeed, in speaking of it
afterwards, she has said several times: "I said a great deal more to
him than I wanted to, just because he was so silent.
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