He had an insane impulse to clutch her tighter, hold her so that no power on earth or in heaven could drag her from him. But the muscles of his arms merely tightened without movement. She lay within them, a weight too pitifully light.
“When we opened,” came at last, whispered so that the words were a breath, “I tried so hard—I put every bit of me into the part.”
“And you were great in it, too.”
“No, the papers told the truth. I just—wasn’t. They didn’t even mention my name—I was just an also-ran. But Frank—I was so happy—so proud. My own failure didn’t count. That was when I knew I loved you, dear,—belonged to you—for always.”
“For always,” he repeated like an amen.
“No matter what happens?”
“No matter—” he could not go on.
She lay there with eyes closed and a smile on her lips. A faint pink like the touch of sunset spread its delicate color on her cheeks. But only for the moment that had carried her into the past. When the eyes opened and looked up to his, they were troubled.
[231]
] “What is it, my Elaine?”
“Frank—since then I’ve poured all my ambition into you. All these seven years—each step of yours up the ladder has been mine. And we have been happy—every minute of them, haven’t we?”