"Well then..." she said, "I... appreciate this conversation, I hope you know it." She gave a light nod and mopped at her face with the back of her hand.

Tristan nodded quietly, pressed his lips together, moved his hand over his beard, then leaned over a little, rested his elbows on his legs and sighed. He looked at her imploringly. "Pippa, though it is no excuse, I want you to understand why I got so angry earlier today. I have always stood out because of the colour of my skin. For most of my school days, I was the only black boy in my school. When a group of us sneaked out one night to explore the city, I was the only one who was recognized and would have been the only one punished, had two other boys not been man enough to own up and stand with me.

"I've been privileged with a good education and have managed to set up a comfortable life and hopefully soon a name in this town. But I will always attract more attention, and even hostility in some circles. And gossip..." He shook his head and sighed. "A well-known poet and playwright was dragged through the mud and sentenced to prison and hard labour recently because of such accusations. If a story like that were to be spread about me, the truth wouldn't matter anymore. Gossip is like wildfire, it would always spread further before I could deal with it. A mere piece of gossip like that could be sufficient to ruin my reputation, Pippa, and thereby my business and everything I have worked for. Do you understand?"

"That was why I wanted to give you the letter... Now, I should have simply slipped it into your desk drawer and left it be. I will tell you this, I would never do such a thing to you... I think gossip is for the devil. That was why I said something to you. I thought what the letter said would get you into some trouble and I worried for you. I wasn't worried about what would happen to me, I was worried something terrible would befall you." She mopped at her face and gave a shuddering sigh.

Tristan nodded slowly. He folded his hands together, then unfolded them. "Thank you, Pippa. Let's just.... never speak of it again." He certainly hoped she was true to her word and would never speak of it to anyone. Some nauseating 'Oscar Wilde before and after' newspaper drawings forced themselves before his mind's eye. How long had he been sweating? He sat back and forced a smile. "You should eat."

She nodded softly. "Agreed," she murmured. Pippa looked down at her hands when food was mentioned. She wasn't hungry but she had the baby to think of now. The baby.... God, she needed to tell Viktre before she started showing, but doubted highly he would wed her. Who would have her now? "Alright, I'll try," she said at last.

Tristan nodded and got up, rather glad to leave and be alone again. He suddenly felt exhausted and twice his age. He thought he would want to sleep for a long time, but he also doubted whether he'd be able to fall asleep at all. He handed her the tray with the meat pie. "It may have cooled down a little. I could reheat it if you like?" he offered, though he hoped she wouldn't follow him on that offer.

"It's perfectly alright," she said softly, feeling as tired as he looked. She made no move to get the food just yet, deciding she wanted to wait until he left her to pick at her food. She gave a tired smile and nodded to him. "Goodnight, Dr. Wells," she murmured, "I'll take care of my dishes in the morning. Seems we both could use the rest."