A little smile twitched the corners of Jean's lips.
"And he leaned back in his chair and laughed and said: 'Good Lord, Jean—you—an affair!' and I have been listening to that laugh and hearing that 'you—an affair?' ever since. And in a way, he is right."
"Jean!"
"Yes, he is. You see, I had never thought of it like that, stripped of all the personal element, just bare and stark as it would sound in a court of law. It was me, and so it was different. What is an affair, technically? It's a love, without legal bonds, that breaks up or dies of its own accord. Never mind what it is to the parties concerned, that's what it is to the world. That's what my love for Gregory is to the world, to Franklin; what his and The Kitten's and Flop's and The Tiger's was to me."
"Jean, you're crazy. Isn't the spirit anything?"
"Everything. But I am trying to make it clear what it was to Franklin——"
"Of course it would be that to him."
"And what he made me see. How do I know the measure of the force that drove him to The Kitten? We have no measure but our own needs. Fifteen years ago, would I have thought it possible, when the days wouldn't pass fast enough to get me into life and work, that a day would come when success, achievement, the chosen work of years, would all shrivel to nothing because one certain man had gone out of them? Three years ago, would I have believed that Gregory could fill his days without me, could have gone on without my sympathy and love and understanding? That he could have nothing deeper in his life than that chattering doll? Mary, there's only one thing that I am sure of, and that is that we don't know a single thing about any one else, or ourselves, either."
Jean rose and stood looking down at Mary.
"And so you are going back?"