He
decided that she could have no respect for him, or she could not have
thrown at him the implication that he had apostatized from selfish
motives. With all the awful solemnity with which a man deeply in love
examines trifles, he recalled her looks and words, deciding that he was
to her nothing more than the butt of her light contempt; and secretly
wondering when and where he should see her again, he decided to leave
her forever.
He announced his determination next morning to his hostess. As he could
not well give the real reason for his decision, and had no experience
in social finesse, he came off badly when asked why he had come to this
sudden decision. He could not equivocate; and when Mrs. Wilson asked
him point-blank if Berenice had been treating him badly, he could only
take refuge in the reply that it was not for him to criticise what Miss
Morison chose to do. He persisted in his resolution to return to
Boston, feeling obstinately that he could not with dignity remain where
he was while Berenice was there. A man of the world would at once have
seen the folly of such a course, but Maurice was not a man of the
world.
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