“You can’t go out in this storm,” I answered. “It’s out of the question. I’m sorry, too; sorry that you acted as you did—and more than sorry that I spoke to you as I did, just now. But I was angry. Can you blame me? I’d been waiting for this moment ever since I heard from you that you had come back from the Amazon—the moment when you, my best friend, and my wife were to meet. And then—why, damn it, man, I can’t understand it! To pull back, to shrink away as you did; even to refuse to take her hand or acknowledge the introduction! It was unbelievably rude. It hurt her, and it hurt me.”
“I know it, and that is why I am so very sorry about it all. I can’t excuse myself, but I can tell you a story that may explain.”
I saw, however, that for some reason he was reluctant to talk.
“You need not,” I said. “Let’s drop the whole matter, and in the morning you can make your amends to Laura.”
Anthony shook his head.
“It’s not pleasant to talk about, but that was not my reason for hesitating. I was afraid you would not believe me if I did tell you. Sometimes truth strains one’s credulity too much. But I will tell you. It may do me good to talk about it, and, anyhow, it will explain why I acted as I did.
“Your wife came in just after we entered. She had not yet removed her veil or gloves. They were gray. So was her dress. Her shoes—everything was gray. And she stood there, her hand outstretched—all in that color—a body covered with gray. I can’t help shuddering. I can’t stand gray! It’s the color of death. Can your nerves stand the dark?”
I rose and switched off the lights. The room was plunged into darkness, save for the flicker of the flames in the fireplace and the intermittent flashes of lightning. The rain beat through the leafless branches outside with a monotonous, slithering swish and rattled like ghostly fingers against the windows.
“The light makes it hard to talk—of unbelievable things. One needs the darkness to hear of hell.”
He paused. The swir-r-r of the rain crept into the stillness of the room. My companion sighed. The firelight shone on his face, which floated in the darkness—a disembodied face, grown suddenly haggard.