"He's gone," she said faintly. "Gone--for always. Except
in my thoughts--inhibited thoughts--thoughts washed and
boiled--thoughts--Oh--sterilized."
"What in hell are you talking about?" he cried, taking her by the
shoulders and shaking her fiercely. "Why are you crying, I say?"
"Because he's gone," she said, and cried all the more.
"My God! The impudence of it--telling me," he shouted, and seemed to be
strangling with rage.
"The--the--honesty of it, Louis. Oh and--the--the awfulness of it! I'm
crying because I can't bear it!"
"You--you--" he gasped, and paused for a word.
"Louis," she said, raising wet, miserable eyes to his. "I've sent him
away, but I daren't, daren't trust myself not to run after him. Oh and
it would so spoil things for him and all of us if I did! Listen, Louis,
can't you grab me and not let me go after him? I can't hold myself back,
and I _did_ promise him I wouldn't let my thoughts get greedy! He said I
was in armour--Louis, my dear, I've tried to help you so often when you
were being torn in two. Can't you--my dear--it's your turn now."
"You damned adulterer!" he gasped, finding the word at last.
She sobbed, and in her sobs he saw fear, guilt. He flung her to the
ground, repeating the word.
"Oh you silly, silly fool," she cried. "He's better than that--if I'm
not.
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