“All right, dear,” he said. “I'll tell you all I know. She was an actress, and she married another man. That's all there is to it. She's not young now. She must be thirty now—if she's living,” he added, as an afterthought.
It was some time before she spoke again.
“I suppose she was beautiful,” she said slowly.
“I don't know. Most of them aren't, off the stage. Anyhow, what does it matter now?”
“Only that I know he has gone back to her. And you know it too.”
He heard her going quietly out of the room.
Long after, he closed the house and went cautiously upstairs. She was waiting for him in the doorway of her room, in her nightgown.
“I know it all now,” she said steadily. “It was because of her he shot the other man, wasn't it?”
She saw her answer in his startled face, and closed her door quickly. He stood outside, and then he tapped lightly.
“Let me in, honey,” he said. “I want to finish it. You've got a wrong idea about it.”