He did not need the admonition, but was on his knees beside her, drawing her to him. He could not speak. Ruth sighed as she felt his touch. "You're REAL," she whispered. "Is he real, too?"
"We're all real, dear," said Hilda.
"Ask HIM—please to go away, then," Ruth said, pointing to Dulac. "I don't want to—hurt him… but he knows I—don't want him…."
"Ruth!" Dulac's utterance was a groan.
"YOU know—don't you, Hilda?… I told you—a long time ago… I never loved—HIM at all. Isn't that—queer?… I thought I did—but—I didn't know… It was something else… You won't feel too bad … will you?"
Ruth looked up at Dulac. "I think you—better—go," she said, gently. He looked at Ruth, looked at Bonbright. Then he turned and, stumbling a little as he went, fumbling, to open the door, he obeyed. They listened in silence to the slow descent of his footsteps; to the opening and closing of the door, as Dulac passed out into the street.
"Poor—man!" said Ruth.
"Bonbright," said Hilda, "do you believe me now?"
He nodded. Hilda moved toward the door. "If you want her—cure her …
Nobody else can. You've got the only medicine." And she left them alone.
"I—loved you all the time, but… I didn't know… I was going… to tell you… and then HE died. Hilda knows. You'll… believe me, won't you?"