"He'd got rid of that bally cancer for me."
"But how did you know--?"
"How do you know the sun has risen, dear? How did that poor devil that
was tearing himself in the tombs know that he need fear no more when
Christ spoke to him? How did the blind man know he could see? I just
don't know, but it happened. And Marcella, do you know what I did?
Lord--it was awful. I cried like anything, and asked him to give you
back to me. It came to me like a flash that I'd no right to you, that
you and he were much righter for each other. But I just couldn't spare
you. More selfishness! And it seemed I'd such a lot to make up to you.
He said: 'Are you sure you can take care of her now, Louis?' I laughed.
It seemed such cool, calm impudence the way our positions were reversed.
He laughed too, and said: 'Queer how we still look upon women as goods
and chattels, isn't it?'"
"You didn't seem to take me into account much," she said.
"Kraill answered for you in the surest possible way. And then we started
to come back to you. He said an astonishing thing on the way back--asked
me if I'd read a book on 'Dreams,' by a German chap named Freud. I said
I left dreams and 'Old Moore's Almanac' to housemaids and old ladies. He
laughed, and we talked about dreams. He told me some of his--rather racy
ones. I told him lots of mine--those horrors I used to have, and all
that.
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