Oh yes," he went on, as she looked startled, "I've quite
realized how selfish I always was to you. Well, don't you see how it
worked? I thought Kraill had got you. You were my property. I just
couldn't bear that. The only thing seemed to be to kill him."
"I didn't think you loved me," she murmured.
"I don't believe I did--till Kraill gave me a few tips! You see, I went
roaring off to him, and he was standing by a tree looking stunned. I was
flaring, frantic. I called him a damned adulterer. He laughed at me, and
said just what you said, 'If I'm not better than that, she is!' Then he
told me that I'd deliberately thrown you away. Mad as I was with him, I
saw that he was quite right."
He paused, and puffed at his cigarette.
"Lord, it was a set-out, Marcella! He said quite calmly, that he was
going to take you. Then it was I saw what life without you would be. He
gave me a thumb-nail sketch of myself--and of you and him. You both
seemed rather fine. I seemed a stinking, grovelling, strawy sort of
thing. To my amazement it seemed right that he should have you. Lord, it
scorched! I stopped thinking about killing him, and wanted to kill
myself."
She put out her hand to him silently and he took it in his.
"Then, quite unexpectedly, he asked me if I was happy. Happy! In that
strife! I found myself telling him--and I'd just called him a damned
adulterer, mind!--all about it, the awful fighting, the awful losing,
and the hunger.
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