SUSAN: You shouldn't have rescued me from Birch Street, Ambo. Everything's made it plain to me, at last. But I've already ground the mud of it into your life now--in spite of myself. You'll never feel really clean again. I: What nonsense! Susan, Susan--dearest! SUSAN: It isn't nonsense. You forget; I'm a specialist in nonsense nowadays. Oh, Ambo, how can you care for me! I've been so insufferably self-satisfied; so childishly blind! My eyes are wide open now. I've had the whole story of what happened that awful night--all of it--from Doctor Askew. He thought he was psycho-analyzing me, while I pumped it out of him, drop by drop. And I've been to Maltby, too; yes, I've been to Maltby, behind your back. Ambo, he isn't really certain yet that I didn't go crazy that night and kill your wife. Neither, I'm sure, is Mrs. Arthur. They've given me the benefit of the doubt simply because they dread being dragged through a horrible scandal, that's all. But they're not convinced. Of course, Maltby didn't say so in so many words, but it was plain as plain! He was afraid of me--afraid! I could feel his fear. He thinks madness is in my blood. Well, he's right. Not just as he means it, but as _Setebos_ means it--the cruel, jealous God of this world!... No, wait, dear! Let me say it out to you, once for all. My father ended a brutal life by an insanely brutal murder, then killed himself; my own father. And I've never all these years honestly realized that as part of my life--part of _me_! But now I do. It's there, back of me. I can never escape from it. Oh, how could I have imagined myself like others--a woman like others, free to love and marry and have children and a home! How could I! I: Susan! Is that all? Is it really all that's holding you from me? Good God, dear! Why, I thought you--secretly--perhaps even unknown to yourself--loved Jimmy! SUSAN: Jimmy? You thought---- I: I think so even now. How can I help it? Look.... [And here you must suppose me to show her those first scrawled sheets, written automatically by her hand.] Perhaps I'm revealing your own heart to you, Susan--dragging to light what you've tried to keep hidden even from yourself. See, dear. "A net. No means of escape from it. To escape--somehow. Jimmy----" [And then Susan would perhaps have handed back those scrawled pages to me with a pitying and pitiful smile.] SUSAN: