"You see, she has found out. Her eyes are opened," Joy said.
"Yes. I was going to tell you about it to-day. I suspected it
yesterday, and it has proved true. It complicates things immensely."
"Leah has told me that I struck her, too. Think of it! It makes me
positively faint. What horrible part of me has come to the surface in
Edna? What undiscovered self is it that is torturing me so? It's a
hideous revelation. It shows how depraved I must be, at heart."
"It isn't you!" I declared. "It's another woman, quite. It's only you
in the sense that it would be you if you were intoxicated, or if you
were dreaming, or insane. You mustn't think of yourself as in any way
responsible."
"Then of course she's not, either?"
"No more than a child, or an idiot. She uses your body and your mind,
but she hasn't, so to speak, the use of your moral scruples. She's a
disintegrated self, imperfectly functioned. All the same we have, of
course, to treat her as quite another person. And the time is
approaching, I think, when we'll have to act. I don't intend to spare
her. We must use force if necessary."
"How does she know about me, after so long an ignorance?" Joy inquired.
I told her what I had heard at the telephone. She could scarcely credit
my testimony.
"If the doctor is definitely leagued with Edna, what can we do? He has
all his science and Edna's active help. I'm lost if he's really against
me! I can't be sure that the doctor has deliberately played me false.
There may be some mistake."
"I think I can prove that to you," I answered, "but I have a great deal
to say to you first."
I think she knew, then; I think she hoped to hear what I was going to
say, for she gave me her hand, and smiled up at me as she rose to go in
to breakfast. We sat down with Leah at the table.
I had taken it for granted that Leah had told Joy everything that had
happened the day before, and so, not wishing to grieve her further, I
took care to say nothing about Nokomis. But the swelling on Leah's
cheek could not be so easily ignored, and several times I saw the tears
come into Joy's eyes at the sight of it.
While we were there the clock struck half-past eight. At the sound
Joy's face changed--an expression of abstraction came into it. It was as
if she were trying to recall something that eluded her memory. Then she
half rose, like a somnambulist.
"I think I'll run up-stairs and telephone the doctor," she said, without
looking at me.
"Why should you?" I asked, much surprised, after the way we had talked.
"I don't know," she said vaguely, looking about the room. "Oughtn't he
to know how I treated Leah? Perhaps he can prevent that in some way."
"You'd better not, Joy," I said.
She stood for a moment irresolute, and then, as if urged by some
extraneous impulse she moved a little nearer the door.
"I just want to find out if he's coming down to-day," she said
automatically.