[But I can't even imagine what babble of sorrow
and joy such words must have wrung from me!
Suppose a decent interval, and a partial recovery
of verbal control.]
SUSAN: You shouldn't have rescued me from Birch
Street, Ambo. Everything's made it plain to me, at
last. But I've already ground the mud of it into
your life now--in spite of myself. You'll never
feel really clean again.
I: What nonsense! Susan, Susan--dearest!
SUSAN: It isn't nonsense. You forget; I'm a
specialist in nonsense nowadays. Oh, Ambo, how can
you care for me! I've been so insufferably
self-satisfied; so childishly blind! My eyes are
wide open now. I've had the whole story of what
happened that awful night--all of it--from Doctor
Askew. He thought he was psycho-analyzing me,
while I pumped it out of him, drop by drop. And
I've been to Maltby, too; yes, I've been to
Maltby, behind your back. Ambo, he isn't really
certain yet that I didn't go crazy that night and
kill your wife. Neither, I'm sure, is Mrs. Arthur.
They've given me the benefit of the doubt simply
because they dread being dragged through a
horrible scandal, that's all. But they're not
convinced. Of course, Maltby didn't say so in so
many words, but it was plain as plain! He was
afraid of me--afraid! I could feel his fear. He
thinks madness is in my blood. Well, he's right.
Not just as he means it, but as _Setebos_ means
it--the cruel, jealous God of this world!... No,
wait, dear! Let me say it out to you, once for
all. My father ended a brutal life by an insanely
brutal murder, then killed himself; my own father.
And I've never all these years honestly realized
that as part of my life--part of _me_! But now I
do. It's there, back of me. I can never escape
from it. Oh, how could I have imagined myself like
others--a woman like others, free to love and
marry and have children and a home! How could I!
I: Susan! Is that all? Is it really all that's
holding you from me? Good God, dear! Why, I
thought you--secretly--perhaps even unknown to
yourself--loved Jimmy!