“Roger,” I said, hearing my voice sound hoarse.
“Yes.”
I felt suddenly dizzy and halted. Like a vision I saw Lizzie lying on
the sofa, whispering to me that Masters had left her. The inside of my
mouth was so dry I had difficulty in articulating. I stammered:
“Wait. I can’t walk so fast.”
He was very apologetic.
“Oh, Evie, dear, I beg your pardon. You should have told me before. I
am so used to walking alone that I forgot.”
We moved at a slower pace. The view that had receded from my vision
came back. My face was damp and the icy air blowing on it was good.
The spiritual fight went on, with my heart beating and beating like a
terrible warlike drum urging me on. Now was the time for him to know,
before it was too late. We were half-way round--I could get it over
before we’d made the full circuit. And then I’d be at peace, would have
done a hideous thing that I ought to do. Now--now! I fetched up a
breath from the bottom of my lungs. He spoke:
“That’s why she oughtn’t to go on with this singing. It brings a woman
into contact with people that she shouldn’t meet.”
Each sentence seemed to point my way clearer. If he’d had any doubts,
hadn’t been so completely without suspicion. But to hear him talk this
way! I tried to make a beginning with Lizzie’s whispering voice getting
in the way. I couldn’t find a phrase, nothing came but blunt brutal
words. There was a moment when I thought I was going to cry these out,
scream at him, “Roger, she was that man’s mistress!” Then everything
blurred and I caught hold of the fence.