Part 19 (1/2)
”Another lie!”
”Jack!”
It was a physical rage that held him now, a rage divided against itself--that longed to strike down, to crush, to stifle the thing it coveted. He had almost a fear of himself. He cried:
”If you don't go, I'll--I'll--”
Suddenly he found something more brutal than a blow, something that must drive her away, while yet he had the strength of his pa.s.sion. He crossed his arms, looking at her with a cold look.
”I'll tell you why you came back. You went to him for just one reason.
You thought he had more money than I had. You came back when you found he hadn't.”
He saw her body quiver and it did him good.
”That ends it,” she said, hardly able to speak. She dropped her head hastily, but not before he had seen the tears.
”Absolutely.”
In a moment she would be gone. He felt all at once uneasy, ashamed--she seemed so fragile.
”My cloak--give me my cloak,” she said, and her voice showed that she accepted his verdict.
He brought the cloak to where she stood wearily, and put it on her shoulders, stepping back instantly.
”Good-by.”
It was said more to the room than to him.
”Good-by,” he said dully.
She took a step and then raised her eyes to his.
”That was more than you had a right to say, even to me,” she said without reproach in her voice.
He avoided her look.
”You will be sorry. I know you,” she said with pity for him. She went toward the door.
”I am sorry,” he said impulsively. ”I shouldn't have said it.”
”Thank you,” she said, stopping and returning a little toward him.
He drew back as though already he felt her arms about him.
”Don't,” she said, smiling a tired smile. ”I'm not going to try that.”
Her instinct had given her possession of the scene. He felt it and was irritated.
”Only let us part quietly--with dignity,” she said, ”for we have been happy together for six years.” Then she said rapidly: