"And I let him," she murmured, catching his intonation, so that her
voice sounded
unconscious, sounded far off and slavish, like an echo.
He said twice, "You! You!"
violently, then calmed down. "What could
you see in the fellow?" he asked, with unaffected wonder. "An
effeminate, fat ass. What could you . . . Weren't you happy? Didn't
you have all you wanted? Now--frankly; did I
deceive your
expectations in any way? Were you disappointed with our position--or
with our prospects--perhaps? You know you couldn't be--they are much
better than you could hope for when you married me. . . ."
He forgot himself so far as to gesticulate a little while he went on
with animation:
"What could you expect from such a fellow? He's an outsider--a rank
outsider. . . . If it hadn't been for my money . . . do you hear?
. . . for my money, he wouldn't know where to turn. His people won't
have anything to do with him. The fellow's no class--no class at all.
He's useful, certainly, that's why I . . . I thought you had enough
intelligence to see it. . . . And you . . . No! It's incredible! What
did he tell you? Do you care for no one's opinion--is there no
re
straining influence in the world for you--women? Did you ever give
me a thought? I tried to be a good husband. Did I fail? Tell me--what
have I done?"
Carried away by his feelings he took his head in both his hands and
repeated wildly:
"What have I done? . . . Tell me! What? . . ."
"Nothing," she said.
"Ah! You see . . . you can't . . ." he began,
triumphantly, walking
away; then suddenly, as though he had been flung back at her by
something
invisible he had met, he spun round and shouted with
exasperation:
"What on earth did you expect me to do?"
Without a word she moved slowly towards the table, and, sitting down,
leaned on her elbow, shading her eyes with her hand. All that time he
glared at her watchfully as if expecting every moment to find in her
deliberate movements an answer to his question. But he could not read
anything, he could gather no hint of her thought. He tried to suppress
his desire to shout, and after
waitingawhile, said with incisive
scorn:
"Did you want me to write
absurd verses; to sit and look at you for
hours--to talk to you about your soul? You ought to have known I
wasn't that sort. . . . I had something better to do. But if you think
I was
totally blind . . ."
He perceived in a flash that he could remember an infinity of
enlightening occurrences. He could recall ever so many distinct
occasions when he came upon them; he remembered the
absurdly
interrupted
gesture of his fat, white hand, the rapt expression of her
face, the
glitter of unbelieving eyes; snatches of incomprehensible
conversations not worth listening to, silences that had meant nothing
at the time and seemed now illuminating like a burst of
sunshine. He
remembered all that. He had not been blind. Oh! No! And to know this
was an
exquisiterelief: it brought back all his composure.
"I thought it beneath me to
suspect you," he said, loftily.
The sound of that
sentenceevidently possessed some
magical power,
because, as soon as he had
spoken, he felt
wonderfully at ease; and
directly afterwards he
experienced a flash of
joyfulamazement at the
discovery that he could be inspired to such noble and truthful
utterance. He watched the effect of his words. They caused her to
glance to him quickly over her shoulder. He caught a
glimpse of wet
eyelashes, of a red cheek with a tear
running down
swiftly; and then
she turned away again and sat as before, covering her face with her
hands.
"You ought to be
perfectly frank with me," he said, slowly.
"You know everything," she answered, indistinctly, through her
fingers.
"This letter. . . . Yes . . . but . . ."
"And I came back," she exclaimed in a stifled voice; "you know
everything."
"I am glad of it--for your sake," he said with
impressivegravity. He
listened to himself with
solemnemotion. It seemed to him that
something inexpressibly momentous was in progress within the room,
that every word and every
gesture had the importance of events