"It's what _he's_ going to do--his own future success that he's been
talking to me about. Never a word about Terry's tragedy."
"And never a word about his own tragedy, either," I put in. "You may as
well be fair."
"_Fair_?" The word stung her, I could see. "_Fair_? It doesn't matter
about being fair to _him_. _He_ can defend himself. None better. Even
stricken as he is, and with the whole world against him, I believe he'd
be more than a match for it."
"You ought to admire him for that."
"Ought I? One gets tired of admiring a man for the same thing. I've
admired him for his brains and his power so long that I'd like a
change."
"And you don't feel sorry for him, lying in that chair all day and
positively aching for something to happen?"
"I feel sorrier for Terry--giving the best years of his life to a thief
and a fraud."
"I don't see why you shouldn't feel sorry for both of them."
"_You_ do, I suppose?"
"Yes."
"Equally?"
"Roughly so, I daresay." I went on, taking advantage of her silence:
"Look here, I'll tell you frankly what I think about Geoffrey. He
irritates me by his calmness just as much as he irritates you, but I try
to look behind it all, and there I see a stoicism that bears his own
misfortune just as bravely as he expects other people to bear theirs."
"That's very nicely put."
"It's _true_. Do you suppose the man's happy, chained to a chair for the
rest of his life? Can't you forgive him his delight at the prospect of
once again playing his little piece under the limelight? Maybe it isn't
what you or I would crave for, but still, _he_ wants it badly enough,
and what right have we to be so confoundedly superior about it? _He's_ a
pagan, frank and unashamed, and we're pagans, maybe, with the cloak of
hypocrisy thrown over us."
"You're getting quite eloquent."
"If I am, it's because I feel what I say. I _like_ Geoffrey, and I'm
damned sorry for him. I don't know which of the two I'm sorrier for--him
or Terry. And especially after the letter I had from him last night....
He's going to put up the biggest fight he can on Terry's behalf, and if
he can manage to enjoy himself at the same time, I for one am very
glad.... Anyhow, here's the letter--you can read it if you'd care to. It
may, of course, strike you as something absolutely diabolical and
callous, but _I_ think it's rather pathetic."
She read it slowly, and then deliberately tore it twice across and
dropped the pieces on to the floor. "_That_," she said, with deadly
quietness, "is what I think of it.... And now, if you've quite finished
defending a man who's well able to defend himself, perhaps you'll tell
me what's going to happen to Terry?"