The porter of the hotel stood in the doorway a few steps above them and watched them with a sort of stolid interest. The lamplight gleamed upon his gilt buttons, and the reflexion of them made Helen aware of his presence. Then he went into the entrance, and there was nobody else about. Voices came with broken laughter from the small garden adjacent to the hotel, where there was a café, and far away, at the end of the entrance hall, the clerk pored over his books.
"It is harder than you know," she answered.
For she loved him, though he did not know it, and she felt as well as he did that she was losing him. But because she was Harmon’s wife and meant to stand by her husband, she would not call it love in her heart, though she knew her own secret. She would hardly let herself think that it was much harder for her than for Wimpole, though she knew it. Temptation is not sin. She had killed her temptations that day, and in their death had almost killed herself.
The sacrifice was perfect and whole-hearted, brave as true faith, and final as death itself.
"Good night," said Wimpole, and his voice broke.
"Neither you nor I shall ever regret this," she answered, but she looked long at him, as though she were not to see him again.
He pressed her hand hard and dropped it. Once more she looked at him and then turned slowly and left him standing there.
The porter of the hotel was facing her on the steps. Neither she nor Wimpole had noticed that he had come back and was waiting for them to part. He held a telegram in his hand, and Helen started slightly as she saw it, for she knew that it must be Harmon’s answer to her word of forgiveness.
"Already!" she exclaimed faintly, as she took it.
She turned back to Wimpole, and met his eyes again, for he had not moved.
She opened the envelope, standing with her back to the light and to the porter. Wimpole breathed hard, and watched her face, and knew that nothing was to be spared to either of them on that day. As she read the words, he thought she swayed a little on her feet, and her eyes opened very wide, and her lips were white. Wimpole watched them and saw how strangely they moved, as if she were trying to speak and could not. He set his teeth, for he believed that even the short message had in it some fresh insult or injury for her.