“Then how on earth did you get in? There are only the two keys.”
He lowered his pipe, stared at her with open mouth. As soon as his mind cleared a little he thought—“Good God! I don't even lie well! I'm no good—for anything!”
He turned with a jerk; walked down the room; walked back again; striding out savagely, turning with a jerk.
“What is it you aren't felling me?” she asked, following him with troubled eyes.
He paced and paced. Finally he came to the other side of the window, stared gloomily out. Still she watched him, waiting.
“Sue,” he said—she had never known this vehemence in him—“you're wrong.”
“Wrong, Henry?”
He threw out his arm in a strong gesture; his fist was clenched..The other hand held his pipe high. “Yes, wrong! You're not a cook! You're not a nurse maid. You're a girl with a soul—with spirit—fire! What are you to that family? They've always wanted to hold you down—yes. But why? For fear you'd start talk and make them uncomfortable. Oh, I knew the feeling that has gripped you now. It's a big reaction. The tragedy of your father's death has brought your childhood back—the old tribal teachings—duty—self-sacrifice! The rush of it has swept your reason aside. But it will come back. It's got to, girl! Even if you have to take a long time working through to it. You and your father were not friends. Denying your own life won't help him. Your emotions are stirred. I know. But even if they are, for God's sake don't stop thinking! Keep your head! I tell you, you've got to go on. You can't live some one else's life—got to live your own! It's all you've gut to live—that life—your gifts—”
He stopped, at the point of choking. Sue was staring now.
“Henry, this is strange—sounds more like—”