December Love Part 101

"Yes, of course. Naturally I will not show it. But I shall have to say that you warned me to drop him."

"I can't have my name mentioned to that man," said Lady Sellingworth desperately.

"And I can't drop him without telling him why."

"Beryl, you haven't read to the end of my letter."

"But I have!"

"Then have you forgotten it? Look! I wrote in it that I don't think he will ask for your reason if you refuse to see him again."

"That only proves how little you know about him. I shall not do it, Adela. You are not very frank with me, but I am sincere with you. Either you must give me an explanation of your reason for writing this letter, or you must give me permission to tell Mr. Arabian of your warning, or--if you won't do either the one or the other--I shall take no action because of this letter. I shall behave as if I had never received it and read it."

"Beryl! What reason could I have for writing as I have written if I had nothing against this man?"

"I don't know. It is very difficult to understand the reasons women have for doing what they do. But I have come here to ask you what your reason is. That's why I am here now."

"Could I have a bad reason, a selfish reason?"

"How can I tell?"

"Then have you a bad opinion of me, of my character?"

"I have always admired you very much. You know that."

"Once--once you called me a book of wisdom."

"Did I?"

"Don't you remember?"

"I dare say I did."

"And I think you meant of worldly wisdom. Then can't you, won't you, trust my opinion of this man?"

"Oh if it's only your opinion!"

"But it is not. It is knowledge."

"Then you know Mr. Arabian?"

"I didn't say that."

"Do you know him?"

Lady Sellingworth turned away for a moment. She stood with her back to Miss Van Tuyn and her face towards the fire, holding the mantelpiece with her right hand. Miss Van Tuyn, motionless, stared at her tall figure. She felt this was a real battle between herself and her friend, or enemy. She was determined to win it somehow. She still had a weapon in reserve, the weapon she had thought of just now when she had resolutely put away her fear of Arabian. But perhaps she would not be forced to use it, perhaps she could overcome Adela's extraordinary resistance without it. As she looked at the woman turned from her she began to think that might be possible. Adela was surely weakening. This pause, this sudden moving away, this long hesitation suggested weakness.

At last Lady Sellingworth turned round.

"You ask me whether I know that man."

"I asked you whether you knew _Mr. Arabian_!" said Miss Van Tuyn, on a note of acute exasperation.

"I don't know him."

"That is a lie!" said Miss Van Tuyn to herself.

To Lady Sellingworth she said:

"Then if you don't know Mr. Arabian you are only repeating hearsay."

"No!"

"But you must be!"

"I am not."

"Adela, you are incomprehensible, or else I must be densely stupid. One or the other!"

"One may know things about a man's character and life without being personally acquainted with him."

"Then it's hearsay. I am not going to drop Mr. Arabian because of hearsay, more especially when I don't even know what the hearsay is."

"It is not hearsay."

"It doesn't come from other people?"

"No."

"Then"--a sudden thought struck her--"is it from the newspapers? Has he ever been in some case, some scandal, that's been in the newspapers?"

"Not that I know of. It isn't that."

"Really this is like the 'Mysteries of Udolpho,'" said Miss van Tuyn, concealing her anger and her burning curiosity under a pretence of petulance. "And I really can't take it seriously."

"But you must, Beryl. You must!"

Lady Sellingworth came to her quickly and sat down beside her.

"I know my conduct must seem very strange."

"It does, indeed!"

"And I dare say all sorts of suspicions, ugly suspicions perhaps, have come into your mind. But try to put them away. Try to believe that I am honestly doing my best to be a friend to you, a true friend."

"Forgive me, Adela, for being brutally frank with you. But I don't think you care very much for me."

"I wrote that letter against my own desire simply because I thought I ought to. I wrote it simply for your sake. I would have given a great deal not to write it. I knew that there was even danger in writing it."