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He could have wished no better
thing. But at the same time, even as he felt and admitted this and
rejoiced at it, the sky of his mind was black with consternation. . . .
It is remarkable, White reflected, as he turned over the abundant
but confused notes upon this perplexing phase of Benham's
development that lay in the third drawer devoted to the Second
Limitation, how dependent human beings are upon statement. Man is
the animal that states a case. He lives not in things but in
expressed ideas, and what was troubling Benham inordinately that
night, a night that should have been devoted to purely blissful and
exalted expectations, was the sheer impossibility of stating what
had happened in any terms that would be tolerable either to Mrs.
Skelmersdale or Lady Marayne. The thing had happened with the
suddenness of a revelation. Whatever had been going on in the less
illuminated parts of his mind, his manifest resolution had been
merely to bid South Harting good-bye-- And in short they would
never understand. They would accuse him of the meanest treachery.


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