“I could love you whatever you were.”
“But that’s not right, George. When I—came to you, you were a great man, but not nearly so great as you were going to be. And now I have spoiled all your future and you don’t seem to have any ambition left. No,” she said, forcing herself away from him and with a gesture forbidding him to follow her, “I’m not going to spoil your life. If I come between you and your work—I’ll—leave you.”
“Leave me!”
The agony in his voice startled her.
“Leave me!” he repeated, striding across to her and holding her fiercely to him. “I think I’d kill you before I’d let you do that.”
“Don’t, George, don’t,” she gasped; “you’re frightening me.”
“I’m so sorry, love, but—why do you say such horrid things to me?”
“What I said was right. If I can’t help you with your work, George, I’ll do this; if in a few days you can’t begin a picture without me in it, can’t prove that you can work with me near you—I’ll go away and I’ll stay away until you can tell me that I can come back safely to you.”
“So that’s your plan! But it will take two to carry it out, and I won’t make the second. I simply won’t let you go. So that’s settled.”
“You don’t want me to be happy? Is your love so selfish as all that?”