“All this movement of ours. That's what I care for most.... It's come to
be a big thing, Remington.”
“That will go on.”
“We have a use for you--no one else quite fills it. No one.... I'm not
sure it will go on.”
“Do you think I haven't thought of all these things?”
He shrugged his shoulders, and rejected two papers unread.
“I knew,” he remarked, “when you came back from America. You were alight
with it.” Then he let his bitterness gleam for a moment. “But I thought
you would stick to your bargain.”
“It's not so much choice as you think,” I said.
“There's always a choice.”
“No,” I said.
He scrutinised my face.
“I can't live without her--I can't work. She's all mixed up with
this--and everything. And besides, there's things you can't understand.
There's feelings you've never felt.... You don't understand how much
we've been to one another.”
Britten frowned and thought.
“Some things one's GOT to do,” he threw out.
“Some things one can't do.”
“These infernal institutions--”
“Some one must begin,” I said.
He shook his head. “Not YOU,” he said. “No!”
He stretched out his hands on the desk before him, and spoke again.
“Remington,” he said, “I've thought of this business day and night too.
It matters to me. It matters immensely to me. In a way--it's a thing
one doesn't often say to a man--I've loved you. I'm the sort of man who
leads a narrow life.... But you've been something fine and good for me,
since that time, do you remember? when we talked about Mecca together.”