“If you and Dick could only get at the root of all this and dig it out.”
“We tried, but we couldn’t. There was no single root. It was just basic difference in ideals. He wasn’t with me in demanding greater dignity from life—does that sound foolish? And I was jealous of Fliss.”
“Not really, Cecily. That would be nonsense.”
“I didn’t suspect Dick of a love affair with Fliss, of course. But I couldn’t bear his admiration of her and of Della. I couldn’t bear to have him even tolerate them. It sounds small, Matthew, but I wanted him with me—with me completely. I couldn’t go on with him at all if we weren’t together. Yet now it isn’t peace; it’s quiet, that’s all. And I shall go on into middle age. I’m middle-aged now and I’m only twenty-six.”
Matthew leaned forward and took one of her hands gently, naturally.
“Do you know that Fliss is jealous of you?” he asked.
“Of me! Not any more!”
“Always will be. Because she knows that you have a part of men’s souls that she can never reach. I wouldn’t tell you this if I didn’t think you needed it. But when I asked Fliss to marry me she said I was in love with you. I wanted her to marry me. I wanted all her sparkle and charm and gayety. I needed it. So I told her. And she said I was in love with you; that she had read it in my face every time I looked at you. So finally I said that even admitting that and refusing to discuss it, I wanted her to marry me. And we have had a very good time together. But she knows that I always have carried about with me——”
“Don’t, Matthew.”
“I must, just once. I’m going away. I know that it isn’t going to hurt you or do me any good. But if you thought that there was the faintest chance that I could do you any good—help you at all with my love—I’d carry you off to-morrow.”