And once she had begun, she could not
stop. She stood, as it were, outside of herself, and saw that her speech
was madness; yet she went on with it.
"I told you the truth brutally on purpose. I was so stung because you
would not see what was so visible had you only the mind to see. I wanted
to hurt you. I am a bad, bad woman, I suppose. There were you and she in
the room talking together in the darkness; there was I alone upon the
terrace. It was the same again to-day. You and Ethne in the room, I
alone upon the terrace. I wonder whether it will always be so. But you
will not say--you will not say." She struck her hands together with a
gesture of despair, but Durrance had no words for her. He walked
silently along the garden path towards the stile, and he quickened his
pace a little, so that Mrs. Adair had to walk fast to keep up with him.
That quickening of the pace was a sort of answer, but Mrs. Adair was not
deterred by it. Her madness had taken hold of her.
"I do not think I would have minded so much," she continued, "if Ethne
had really cared for you; but she never cared more than as a friend
cares, just a mere friend. And what's friendship worth?" she asked
scornfully.
Pages:
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329