"Oh, my dear, can't you pull up? I've seen so many of these affairs go
wrong. It really is not for nothing that law and conventions are what
they are--believe me! Really, Bryan, experience does show that the
pressure's too great. It's only once in a way--very exceptional people,
very exceptional circumstances. You mayn't think now it'll hamper you,
but you'll find it will--most fearfully. It's not as if you were a
writer or an artist, who can take his work where he likes and live in a
desert if he wants. You've got to do yours in London, your whole career
is bound up with society. Do think, before you go butting up against it!
It's all very well to say it's no affair of anyone's, but you'll find
it is, Bryan. And then, can you--can you possibly make her happy in the
long-run?"
She stopped at the expression on his face. It was as if he were saying:
"I have left your world. Talk to your fellows; all this is nothing to
me."
"Look here, Mother: you don't seem to understand. I'm devoted--devoted
so that there's nothing else for me."
"How long will that last, Bryan? You mean bewitched."
Summerhay said, with passion:
"I don't. I mean what I said. Good-night!" And he went to the door.
"Won't you stay to dinner, dear?"
But he was gone, and the full of vexation, anxiety, and wretchedness
came on Lady Summerhay. It was too hard! She went down to her lonely
dinner, desolate and sore.
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