Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"He will have to marry her," said Philip. "I heard from him
this morning, just as we left Milan. He finds he has gone
too far to back out. It would be expensive. I don't know
how much he minds--not as much as we suppose, I think. At
all events there's not a word of blame in the letter. I
don't believe he even feels angry. I never was so
completely forgiven. Ever since you stopped him killing me,
it has been a vision of perfect friendship. He nursed me,
he lied for me at the inquest, and at the funeral, though he
was crying, you would have thought it was my son who had
died. Certainly I was the only person he had to be kind to;
he was so distressed not to make Harriet's acquaintance, and
that he scarcely saw anything of you. In his letter he says
so again."

"Thank him, please, when you write," said Miss Abbott,
"and give him my kindest regards."

"Indeed I will." He was surprised that she could slide
away from the man so easily. For his own part, he was bound
by ties of almost alarming intimacy. Gino had the southern
knack of friendship. In the intervals of business he would
pull out Philip's life, turn it inside out, remodel it, and
advise him how to use it for the best. The sensation was
pleasant, for he was a kind as well as a skilful operator.
But Philip came away feeling that he had not a secret corner
left. In that very letter Gino had again implored him, as a
refuge from domestic difficulties, "to marry Miss Abbott,
even if her dowry is small." And how Miss Abbott herself,
after such tragic intercourse, could resume the conventions
and send calm messages of esteem, was more than he could
understand.

"When will you see him again?" she asked. They were
standing together in the corridor of the train, slowly
ascending out of Italy towards the San Gothard tunnel.

"I hope next spring. Perhaps we shall paint Siena red
for a day or two with some of the new wife's money. It was
one of the arguments for marrying her."

"He has no heart," she said severely. "He does not
really mind about the child at all."

"No; you're wrong. He does. He is unhappy, like the
rest of us. But he doesn't try to keep up appearances as we
do. He knows that the things that have made him happy once
will probably make him happy again--"

"He said he would never be happy again."

"In his passion. Not when he was calm. We English say
it when we are calm--when we do not really believe it any
longer. Gino is not ashamed of inconsistency. It is one of
the many things I like him for.

"Yes; I was wrong. That is so."

"He's much more honest with himself than I am,"
continued Philip, "and he is honest without an effort and