[_In agony._] I'd have helped that if I could.
O'CONNELL. Not the shame ... not the wrong she had done me ... but just
fear--fear of the burden of her woman-hood. And because of her my children
are bastards and cannot inherit my name. And I must live in sin against my
church, as--God help me--I can't against my nature. What are men to do when
this is how women use the freedom we have given them? Is the curse of
barrenness to be nothing to a man? And that's the death in life to which you
gentlemen with your fine civilisation are bringing us. I think we are
brothers in misfortune, Mr. Trebell.
TREBELL. [_Far from responding._] Not at all, sir. If you wanted children
you did the next best thing when she left you. My own problem is neither so
simple nor is it yet anyone's business but my own. I apologise for alluding
to it.
HORSHAM _takes advantage of the silence that follows._
HORSHAM. Shall we....
O'CONNELL. [_Measuring_ TREBELL _with his eyes._] And by which shall I help
you to a solution ... telling lies or the truth to-morrow?
TREBELL. [_Roughly, almost insolently._] If you want my advice ... I should
do the thing that comes more easily to you, or that will content you most.
If you haven't yet made up your mind as to the relative importance of my
work and your conscience, it's too late to begin now. Nothing you may do can
affect me.
HORSHAM.
Pages:
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102