_The Girl_ (determinedly): Grace, you have said too much or too little.
I do not love Karloff, I never could love him; but I like him, and
liking him, I feel called upon to defend him.
_The Woman_ (surprised into showing her dismay): You defend him? You!
_The Girl:_ And why not? That is what I wish to know: why not?
_The Woman:_ My dear, you do not love him. That is all I wished to
know. Karloff is a brilliant, handsome man, a gentleman; his sense of
honor, such as it is, would do credit to many another man; but behind
all this there is a power which makes him helpless, makes him a puppet,
and robs him of certain worthy impulses. I have read somewhere that
corporations have no souls; neither have governments. Ask me nothing
more, Betty, for I shall answer no more questions.
_The Girl:_ I do not think you are treating me fairly.
_The Woman:_ At this moment I would willingly share with you half of
all I possess in the world.
_The Girl:_ But all this mystery!
_The Woman:_ As I have said, some day you will understand. Treat
Karloff as you have always treated him, politely and pleasantly. And I
beg of you never to repeat our conversation.
The Girl (to whom illumination suddenly comes; rises quickly and goes
over to the woman; takes her by the shoulders, and the two stare into
each other's eyes, the one searchingly, the other fearfully): Grace!
The Woman: I am a poor foolish woman, Betty, for all my worldliness and
wisdom; but I love you (softly), and that is why I appear weak before
you. The blind envy those who see, the deaf those who hear; what one
does not want another can not have. Karloff loves you, but you do not
love him.
(The girl kisses the woman gravely on the cheek, and without a word,
makes her departure.)
The Woman (as she hears the carriage roll away): Poor girl! Poor,
happy, unconscious, motherless child! If only I had the power to stay
the blow! ... Who can it be, then, that she loves?
The Girl (in her carriage): Poor thing! She adores Karloff, and I never
suspected it! I shall begin to hate him.
How well women read each other!
James had never parted with his rose and his handkerchief. They were
always with him, no matter what livery he wore. After luncheon, William
said that Miss Annesley desired to see him in the study. So James
spruced up and duly presented himself at the study door.
"You sent for me, Miss?"--his hat in his hand, his attitude deferential
and attentive.
She was engaged upon some fancy work, the name of which no man knows,
and if he were told, could not possibly remember for longer than ten
minutes. She laid this on the reading-table, stood up and brushed the
threads from the little two-by-four cambric apron.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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