“Laura? Not smashed?” His face was tragic. “Not smashed, Laura? How many? Which ones? Not the whole lot?”
Again she opened and shut her mouth.
He was at the cabinet.
“Where’s the key? What have you done with the key?” And then, with palpable effort—“Don’t be scared, Laura. I know you couldn’t help it. But what happened?”
His generosity cut like a knife. As suddenly as it had descended upon her the dumbness passed away. Her tongue was loosened. She heard her voice, her high, shaking voice, entirely independent of her, yet still her own voice—
“I did it,” said Laura’s voice, “I—I did it on purpose.”
“What?” He wheeled, staring, while within her mind she implored this voice of hers to go on, to tell Justin, to make Justin understand. And at last it did say—
“I had to, Justin. Justin—I had to.”
He took a step towards her. There was a new and dangerous light in his eyes.
“Are you mad? What do you mean? Are you quite mad?”