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Updated: May 5, 2025
In a flash he understood that she knew the extent of Haskett's claims. Perhaps it was not the first time she had resisted them. "My objecting has nothing to do with it," he said coldly; "if Haskett has a right to be consulted you must consult him." She burst into tears, and he saw that she expected him to regard her as a victim. Haskett did not abuse his rights.
Inquiry, however, established her undoubted connection with a socially reigning family, and explained her recent divorce as the natural result of a runaway match at seventeen; and as nothing was known of Mr. Haskett it was easy to believe the worst of him.
On Sunday afternoons Haskett would take her for a walk, pushing Lily ahead of them in a white enameled perambulator, and Waythorn had a vision of the people they would stop and talk to.
The spring evening was chilly, and Waythorn invited his guest to draw up his chair to the fire. He meant to find an excuse to leave Haskett in a moment; but he was tired and cold, and after all the little man no longer jarred on him. The two were inclosed in the intimacy of their blended cigar-smoke when the door opened and Varick walked into the room. Waythorn rose abruptly.
Inwardly he was trying to adjust the actual Haskett to the image of him projected by his wife's reminiscences. Waythorn had been allowed to infer that Alice's first husband was a brute. "I am sorry to intrude," said Haskett, with his over-the-counter politeness. "Don't mention it," returned Waythorn, collecting himself. "I suppose the nurse has been told?" "I presume so. I can wait," said Haskett.
But Waythorn knew how many ambiguities such a verdict might cover. The mere fact that Haskett retained a right over his daughter implied an unsuspected compromise. Waythorn was an idealist. He always refused to recognize unpleasant contingencies till he found himself confronted with them, and then he saw them followed by a special train of consequences.
And as Waythorn mused, another idea struck him: had Haskett ever met Varick as Varick and he had just met? The recollection of Haskett perturbed him, and he rose and left the restaurant, taking a circuitous way out to escape the placid irony of Varick's nod. It was after seven when Waythorn reached home. He thought the footman who opened the door looked at him oddly.
"I am not so sure of that," he returned stiffly; "but since you wish it I will give your message to my wife." He always hesitated over the possessive pronoun in addressing Haskett. The latter sighed. "I don't know as that will help much. She didn't like it when I spoke to her." Waythorn turned red. "When did you see her?" he asked.
Waythorn sprang up and began to pace the room nervously. He had not suffered half so much from his two meetings with Varick. It was Haskett's presence in his own house that made the situation so intolerable. He stood still, hearing steps in the passage. "This way, please," he heard the nurse say. Haskett was being taken upstairs, then: not a corner of the house but was open to him.
"Not since the first day I came to see Lily right after she was taken sick. I remarked to her then that I didn't like the governess." Waythorn made no answer. He remembered distinctly that, after that first visit, he had asked his wife if she had seen Haskett. She had lied to him then, but she had respected his wishes since; and the incident cast a curious light on her character.
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