"
She said to herself: "He doesn't. He doesn't even know why I'm going."
"I know a lot more than you think. And a lot more than you know
yourself. I know that you're not happy as you are, and I know that
you can't _live_ without happiness. If you're not happy you'll be ill;
more horribly ill, perhaps, than Alice. Look at Alice."
"I'm not like Alice."
"Not now. Not next year. Not for ten years, perhaps, or twenty. But
you don't know what you may be."
She raised her head.
"I shall never be like that. Never."
Rowcliffe laughed.
It struck her then that that was what she ought never to have said if
she wanted to carry out her purpose.
"When I say I'm not like Ally I mean that I'm not so dependent on
people. I'm not gentle like Ally. I'm not as loving and I'm not as
womanly. In fact, I'm not womanly at all."
"My dear child, do you suppose it matters to me what you're not, as
long as I love you as you are?"
"No," she said, "you don't love me really. You only think you do."
She clung to that.
"Why do you say that, Gwenda?"
"Because, if you did, I should have known it before now."
"Well, considering that you _do_ know it now--"
"I mean, you'd have said so before."
"I say! I like that. I'd have said so about five times if you'd ever
given me a chance."
"Oh, no. You had your chance."
"When did I have it? When?"
"The other day. Up at Bar Hill."
"You thought so then?"
"I didn't say I thought so then.
Pages:
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198