She hesitated. "Haven't you noticed that he's been drinking a great deal
lately?"
"Yes; I've noticed."
They were both silent; then Wrayford broke out, with sudden vehemence:
"And yet you won't--"
"Won't?"
"Put an end to it. Good God! Save what's left of your life."
She made no answer, and in the stillness the throb of the water
underneath them sounded like the beat of a tormented heart.
"Isabel--" Wrayford murmured. He bent over to kiss her. "Isabel! I can't
stand it! listen--"
"No; no. I've thought of everything. There's the boy--the boy's fond of
him. He's not a bad father."
"Except in the trifling matter of ruining his son."
"And there's his poor old mother. He's a good son, at any rate; he'd
never hurt her. And I know her. If I left him, she'd never take a penny
of my money. What she has of her own is not enough to live on; and how
could he provide for her? If I put him out of doors, I should be putting
his mother out too."
"You could arrange that--there are always ways."
"Not for her! She's proud. And then she believes in him. Lots of people
believe in him, you know. It would kill her if she ever found out."
Wrayford made an impatient movement. "It will kill you if you stay with
him to prevent her finding out."