In doing it I think I committed the unforgivable
sin--not against you, but against art. It may be some
satisfaction to you to know that I shall never wholly
respect myself again in consequence." A word or two
scratched out, and then: "Understand that I bear no malice
toward you, have no blame for you, only honor. You acted
under the very highest obligation--you could not have
done otherwise. * * * * * And I am glad to think that I
do not destroy with your work the joy you had in it.
* * *"
Kendal noted the consideration of this final statement
with a cynical laugh, and counted the asterisks. Why
the devil hadn't he locked the door? His confidence in
her had been too ludicrous. He read the note half through
once again, and then with uncontrollable impatience tore
it into shreds. To have done it at all was hideous, but
to try and impress herself in doing it was disgusting.
He reflected, with a smile of incredulous contempt, upon
what she had said about killing herself, and wondered,
in his anger, how she could be so blind to her own
disingenuousness. Five asterisks--she had made them
carefully--and then the preposterousness about what she
had destroyed and what she hadn't destroyed; and then
more asterisks.
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