Part 48 (1/2)
”To the contrary; but I sail day after to-morrow for Australia.”
”Oh? That's very sudden, isn't it? You don't seem to have done any packing. Or perhaps you mean to come back before a great while?”
”I shan't come back, ever.”
”Must I believe you made up your mind this morning?”
”I have only just read the announcement of your opening to-morrow night.”
”Then ... I am driving you out of the country?”
Her look was impersonal and curious. He prided himself that he was managing his temper admirably--at least until he discovered that he had, inexplicably, no temper to speak of; that he, in fact, suffered mostly from what seemed to be nothing more than annoyance at being hindered in making the necessary arrangements against his departure.
His shoulders moved negligently. ”Not to rant about it,” he replied: ”I find I am not needed here.”
”Oh, dear!” Her lips formed a fugitive, petulant moue: ”And it's my fault?”
”There's no use mincing matters, is there? I am not heartbroken, and if I am bitterly disappointed I don't care to--in fact, I lack the ability--to dramatize it.”
”You are taking it well, Hugh,” said she, critical.
Expressionless, he waited an instant before inquiring pointedly: ”Well...?”
Deliberately laying aside her light m.u.f.f, her scarf and hand-bag, she rose: equality of poise was impossible if he would persist in standing.
She moved a little nearer, examining his face closely, shook her head, smiled almost diffidently, and gave a helpless gesture.
”Hugh,” she said in a voice of sincerity, ”I'm awfully sorry--truly I am!”
He made no reply; waited.
”Perhaps I'm wrong,” she went on, ”but I think most women would have spared themselves this meeting--”
”Themselves and the man,” he interjected dryly.
”Don't be cross, Hugh.... I had to come. I had to explain myself. I wanted you to understand. Hugh, I--” She was twisting her hands together with a manner denoting great mental strain. Of a sudden she checked and dropped them, limp and open by her sides. ”You see,” she said with the apologetic smile, ”I'm _trying_ not to act.”
”Oh,” he said in a tone of dawning comprehension--”so that's it!”
”I'm afraid so, Hugh.... I'm dreadfully sorry for you--poor boy!--but I'm afraid that's the trouble with me, and it can never be helped.
I was born with a talent for acting; life has made me an actress.
Hugh ... I've found out something.” Her eyes appealed wistfully. ”I'm not genuine.”
He nodded interestedly.
”I'm just an actress, an instrument for the music of emotions. I've been trained to respond, until now I respond without knowing it, when there's no true response here.” She touched the bosom of her frock.
He said nothing.
With a half sigh she moved away to the window, and before she spoke again posed herself very effectively there, looking out over the park while she cleared her mind.