"And she hadn't?"
"Of course not." He spoke sternly. "Between you, you have made it almost impossible for that poor child to return unless her husband fetches her. Why you should have sought to ruin their homes I confess I fail to understand. Neither Rose nor his wife had done you any harm."
"No." She stared sombrely at him. "That's true, I suppose. But—oh, you can't understand, of course."
"Understand what, Eva?" He tried to speak gently, aware through all her mockery of something piteous, tragic in her attitude.
"You can't understand how I hate to see happiness." She threw back her head and beneath her white wrapper he saw her breast heave stormily. "I was happy once, before those men sent me to prison. I used to sing and laugh—as Toni did—I used to enjoy every moment of my life ... and then I liked to see people all round me being happy too... But I was taken away from it all, from the sunshine, the gay, happy people, the shops, the theatres, taken away and shut up like a wild animal in a cell ... oh ..." She shivered, and all at once his heart melted towards her.
"Don't think of that now, dear." He put his hand with real kindness on her shoulder. "It's all over and done with, and there are better things in store."
"Not for me." Her tone was unutterably forlorn. "My life is spoilt, broken—and now"—all at once her expression changed and she spoke vindictively—"now all I can do is to break other lives!"
"Hush, Eva." He removed his hand from her arm. "Don't talk so. And remember, if Mrs. Rose comes home safely, you must leave her alone for the future."
For a moment she said nothing, biting her lip as though in thought. Then suddenly she shrugged her shoulders and moved away without a word.