Fancett may call it an acute dilatation of the heart, but
it was happiness that killed her. It's possible for me to say that
because, fundamentally, I didn't bring it to her. Savina found it,
created it, for herself. Through that time--was it long or short? The
two weeks seemed a life--she was herself, superior."
"How about you?"
"I was absolutely contented," Lee replied.
"Isn't that a pale word for an act of passion?"
"Perhaps. It may be." A troubled expression settled over Lee's eyes.
"There is something I should like to explain to you, Daniel, to ask you
about, but it would take a great many words?" He cast this in the tone
of a query, and palpably waited for the encouragement to proceed fully;
but Daniel Randon was persistently non-committal. He had no intention,
he said, of urging Lee to any speech he might later regret and wish
unpronounced. "It's about my attitude toward Savina," Lee proceeded;
"or it may be about a doll; I don't know. No, Savina and the doll
weren't as distinct as you'd suppose; they were, in the beginning and
at the end, one: Savina and Cytherea. That has given me some wretched
hours; because, when it was over, I didn't miss Savina, I couldn't even
call her individually back to my mind; and the inhumanity of that, the
sheer ingratitude, was contemptible.
"I can explain it best by saying that Cytherea had always represented
something unknown that I wanted, that always disturbed me and made me
dissatisfied.
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