He knew what it meant if he didn't ask the law to aid him to get rid of her; he knew perfectly well that his silence meant acknowledgment of culpability; that he couldn't remain in the service under such suspicion.
"And now, Gerald," continued Austin, striking his broad palm with extended forefinger and leaning heavily forward, "I'll tell you what sort of a man Philip Selwyn is.

He permitted Alixe to sue him for absolute divorce--and, to give her every chance to marry Ruthven, he refused to defend the suit.

That sort of chivalry is very picturesque, no doubt, but it cost him his career--set him adrift at thirty-five, a man branded as having been divorced from his wife for cause, with no profession left him, no business, not much money--a man in the prime of life and hope and ambition, clean in thought and deed; an upright, just, generous, sensitive man, whose whole career has been blasted because he was too merciful, too generous to throw the blame where it belonged.

And it belongs on the shoulders of that Mrs.Jack Ruthven--Alixe Ruthven--whose name you may see in the columns of any paper that truckles to the sort of society she figures in." Austin stood up, thrust his big hands into his pockets, paced the room for a few moments, and halted before Gerald.
"If any woman ever played me a dirty trick," he said, "I'd see that the public made no mistake in placing the blame.

I'm that sort"-- he shrugged--"Phil Selwyn isn't; that's the difference--and it may be in his favour from an ethical and sentimental point of view.