“What’s got over you?” he came back sharply. “You talk like a mad woman.”
“No—I’m quite sane. I see quite clearly—too clearly. I’ve had plenty of time to go over it—to face the truth. I thought when I married you that you loved the woman in me. Now I know it was the actress. You loved me for the thing I gave up because I loved you—the glamour of the stage. Popularity—the fact that I was conspicuous made me desirable. You demanded that I sacrifice all that. And when I did, I became the same to you as hundreds of women you’d known, women you were tired of. You cut me off completely from my old [337] ]life, except as a spectator—then sought in that old life the thrill and interest I could no longer give you.”
She paused. Her hand went to her throat as it had that day in the house of the fir trees.
“All these five years when I’ve longed for a glimpse of it—just a glimpse—to become part of it again if only for a little while, I’ve felt guilty, almost as if I’d been untrue to you. I’ve thrust the thought aside as something unworthy. I’ve let you fill my life. Well,” she paused, “now I’ve gone back to it. I’ve gone back to the thing that made you love me. And I’ve gone—to stay.”
Defiance at last leaped at him. It tore from her, as they stood measuring each other, like a panther from some rustling jungle. It gripped his throat.
“Woman excuses!” he brought out at last. “Without rhyme or reason to back them! Well, they won’t answer. I’m still waiting for a straight, rational explanation. Suppose you let me have it—now.”
“All right, I will. I didn’t want to, but since you demand it you shall have it. I’ve given you my reason, my motive. I’ve told you what sent me back to the stage. But the thing that brought me to my senses, that made me realize the truth, can be summed up in just three words
: Hawaii—Lilla Grant.”
She spoke as if merely voicing them were tearing open a wound unhealed, spoke them so low that they came like a breath.
And hearing, he straightened, stood silent, too stunned to think of an answer.