“Don't expect me to explain. I know I'm inconsistent.”
He pressed her hand; then his other big hand very quietly stroked her hair, slid down to her forehead, rested slightly on her flushed temple and cheek.
“You poor child,” he said, “you're almost in a fever. You've got to do something. Don't you see that?”
She was silent.
“It's tearing you to pieces, this giving the lie to your own beliefs. You've got to let go, Sue! For God's sake, be human! Accept a little happiness. You're not a small person. You are gifted, big. But you've got to live the complete life. It's the only answer.... See here. Peter's away, isn't he?”
“He left last Thursday... I had a note...”
“I didn't,” Zanin smiled grimly. “It's Tuesday, now. We can't do those outdoor scenes yet. You come away with me. I'll take you off into the hills somewhere—over in Pennsylvania or up-state. Let's have some happiness, Sue. And give me a chance to take a little real care of you. Half my strength is rusting right now because you won't use it.”
He drew her closer.
Suddenly she sprang up, leaped across the room, whirled against the wall and faced him.
Then she faltered perceptibly, for on his face she saw only frank admiration.