"I've been doing my best," Summerlad argued resentfully. "When I saw how
it was going to be with you and me, and found out Nelly'd come back to
Hollywood, I went to her and had things out--gave her some money and
promised her more, on the strength of her promise to go back home and
get a divorce on the dead quiet."
"And did you hope to keep that a secret from me?"
"My name isn't Summerlad, anymore than hers is Marquis--or yours Lee. I
thought I'd.... I thought everything was going to be all right till she
turned up again with your officious husband."
"You think Bel had something to do----"
"I think he hunted Nelly up, if you want to know, and induced her to
come back here, in violation of her agreement."
"But Bel.... I don't quite see...."
"He wanted Nelly on the spot as a sort of club over my head. He hasn't
given you up yet"--Summerlad laughed shortly--"not by a long sight."
"A club over your head? I don't understand."
"Not meaning to use it as long as we behaved ourselves."
"Behaved ourselves! Lynn!"
"Oh, forgive me! I didn't mean to say that."
Summerlad's look mirrored a real and poignant contrition as he saw her
colouring with affronted sensibility, drawing back from him, momentarily
slipping farther beyond his reach. "Linda!" he implored--"don't look at
me that way. I can't help what your husband thinks, can I? I didn't ask
him to come out here and be the pest he is, did I? After all, what have
I done? I lied about Nelly--yes--but only to spare your feelings. I
didn't want you to think people might be talking about you, stepping out
with a married man. If you'd thought that, you'd have given me my
walking papers and ... and I couldn't do without you, dear--I can't! The
others never mattered much, they sort of came and went, mostly I didn't
care which they did. But you're so different, you're so wonderful,
everything a fellow dreams about. I've never known anybody like you,
never will again. If I lost you I'd--I'd--I think I'd go out of my
mind!"
And suddenly, before she could stir to escape, he caught her to him and
held her fast.
"Linda, sweetheart; don't be angry with me. I've tried so hard to be
good enough for you. And you--you've loved me, too! Don't let this
rotten accident spoil everything for us. If you love me--and you know I
love you--what does anything matter? What if we are both married? What
difference need that make? Love can still be sweet...."
She made no show of opposition, only drew back her head to cheat his
lips; but when she tried to brave his eyes, thinking to read therein his
heart and mind, she winced from recognition of the hunger that informed
them, hunger that she wittingly had whetted, hunger such as she herself
had too often known of late, like warm wine running in one's veins....
But always ere now she had fortified and shriven her conscience with the
belief that they were of one mind, it must and would be Reno first....
Now Reno no longer held forth any promise of salvation, of the law's
sanction, the church's countenance. Even though she were to find there
her own freedom, Lynn would still be bound. It wasn't in reason to
hope that the woman who had rejected his money would listen to
other arguments. Today and henceforward it must be all for love or ...
nothing ... a break final and irreparable....
And for all the shock she had suffered, for all the wrong Lynn had done
and the pain of which his ill-faith had been the cause, the love she had
given the man still was dear, dangerously sweet and disarming. Already
she was aware of anxiety to grasp at excuses for him, to comfort the
ache in her heart with the thought that she was according charity to a
dear transgressor, already she felt her strength to resist being sapped,
flesh and spirit succumbing anew to the spell he knew too well how to
weave.
She wrestled with a weakness stronger than all her strength. They
couldn't go on like this.... Lynn hadn't said it, but they both knew
it ... without going farther.... Even Reno couldn't save her now, only
the instinct of self-preservation latent in her, not even that if she
failed to find in herself the will to hear and be guided by its
admonishments. It was make or break....
The scales hung long in trembling. They turned only when Summerlad
unwisely, losing patience, sought to take by storm the lips she had not
yet made up her mind to surrender, and thus aroused resistance till then
dormant.
With an ease that in a queer, detached way she found surprising, she
managed to break his embrace. Nevertheless the effort left her faint.
She faltered to the fireplace and rested a hand on the mantel, her
forehead upon the hand. Lynn followed, stood by her side, not touching
her but keeping her enveloped in the lethargizing knowledge of his
nearness, his strength, his passion. Over and over he murmured gently:
"Linda, Linda, Linda...." Shaking from head to feet, she made a feeble
sign of appeal. He disregarded this entirely, his arms again stole round
her and would have drawn her to him but that, of a sudden, her mind
caught at a straw of memory, she drew away, with a hand upon his bosom
put him firmly from her, eyes that were melting none the less denying
him, lips that were a-quiver with "Yes" resolutely pronouncing "No!"
"You are cruel...."
"No, Lynn. Wait. Tell me something.... You say she--your wife agreed to
divorce you?"
"I made her promise," Summerlad asserted grimly.
"When was that? The day she disappeared? The day I found her lying
senseless in her room?"
"I suppose so. Does it matter? Well, then--yes."
"You'd just left her when I found her?"
"I daresay--approximately."
"Tell me what you said to persuade her."
"See here: what is all this? What are you driving at?"
"I want to know.... Did you have much of a scene?"
"I'll say it was some stormy young session."
"Is that why you found it necessary to strike her?"