“Our chance is gone, if that’s what you mean.”
“I don’t see how it affects us in the least if our love remains to us. I have never told her I loved her.”
“How charming for her!”
“That wasn’t what she wanted. She understands. I’m not the only one for her. It isn’t as if she were— She can take care of herself.” He paused. “Oh, I wouldn’t mind if she were dead if it would do us any good.”
“Neil, hush! Nothing, not even our own deaths, could do us any real good again. How can you think wrong will right wrong?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know how I think a lot of things I’m thinking. For instance, Bertrand Whittaker must be stopped dead in his tracks. He can’t be allowed to do this to Bunny’s life, or yours, or mine either. I’ll kill him first. The past is over and done with and he has no right to revive it.”
“The past is over; yes, the past is done with. She said she had your picture and Bunny’s on the dresser before her. Listen to that—Bunny’s picture. What’s Bunny to her under the circumstances, I’d like to know, that she should be able to make free with her picture: stepchild, love child or godchild? I don’t suppose any of them fit, but they sound so refreshingly shocking it’s fun to use them.”
“Stop making a scene, Sydney! I didn’t think you had it in you to make scenes and say such wild, bitter things. I can’t tend to a scene now. Can’t you see I can’t?”
“When did it all begin, Neil? Don’t say it began in the common old-fashioned way at the common old-fashioned time. Don’t say it began when Bunny was coming.”
“Of course it did. When did you think it would have begun? You didn’t expect me to be a monk, did you? Sydney, let’s stop talking, please; and think about what’s got to be done. What do you say we clear out of the country and make a fresh start. Australia or somewhere.”