“I fell in love with you,” she said suddenly, startlingly.
“Nobody can fall in love in a night.”
Audrey laughed. “Can’t they? I’d like to know what you call what’s going on inside me! I didn’t sleep all night! I shook! I have a feeling like being on fire! I’ve done ages of, not thinking, but knowing about you since last night. Since you were so decent about—Ellen. I know all about you, everything—what you’d say if you were really making love to me—how you’d act if you drank too much—how you’ll look when you’re an old man—what you dream about when you sleep—what you want and what you hate, and what you believe in your heart! I know all that, and I know I will never get over this! Never, never, never.”
Jimmie was aghast. He wanted not to look at her—but he looked. She made no pretense of being composed. She was, indeed, shaking. She still resembled Ellen a great deal; but Ellen had been tranquil and self-possessed. Ellen would never have made such a statement. Not even in years of intimacy. Audrey was like a wild Ellen, an Ellen mixed with violent forces, a berserker, pagan Ellen. A cannibal Ellen, he decided.
He pushed in the lighter, preparatory to smoking a cigarette of his own. “I’ve been in England a long time.” It was lame, and he knew it. “I’m not accustomed to—”
Audrey interrupted him. “Have I asked you for anything? I will—but I haven’t! I’m not a kid, Jimmie. I’ve been living in this town a good while, and going to Chicago and other places, in a big, social way. I have been very much excited about a great many men.
Don’t mistake that. You show me a beautiful woman and I’ll show you one that’s had a lot of men in her life, in one sense or another. I know about my looks, my pale-brown eyes—they aren’t blue, people just think they are—and my bucketful of gold hair, and my figure.
I intend to use them on you for all they’re worth. I dressed three times this afternoon before I started over here. I have good taste—which most people out here do not have. I’m not in the least virtuous—but I am a swell prospect for virtue. I’m not frigid—but I could be, if I were disappointed someday.”
Jimmie said, “Hey!”
She smiled, briefly, almost gently. “You can read my diaries, if you want. I’ll mail them to you. You must know all about me, personally. Right a way. Then we won’t get into any farcical scenes later on.”