"Please let me talk—you would if you only knew what I’m going to say. My remarks may seem irrelevant, but they’re not. They’re a confession of weakness on my part—an acknowledgment of strength on yours. You never liked me from the first, and I don’t think I really was very fond of you. We seemed to have been run in different moulds. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t have got along because—well, you know I’m not half bad when one really knows me; and you!—you have everything that most people like—you’re beautiful, cultured, clever and—and quite human."
Camilla made a gesture of impatience, but Rita went on imperturbably. "You’re handsome, gentle and human—but you—you’re a dreadful fool!"
And then, with a laugh, "Please sit down and don’t look so tragic. It’s true, dear, perfectly true, and you’ll be quite sure of it in a moment."
Anger seemed so futile, Camilla was reduced to a smile of contempt. "I’m sure I can’t be anything but flattered at your opinions, Mrs. Cheyne." But, in spite of herself, she was conscious of a mild curiosity as to whither this remarkable conversation was leading.
"Thanks," said Rita with mock humility. "There’s only one thing in the world more blind than hatred, and that’s love. Because you think you hate me, you’d be willing to let slip forever your only chance of happiness in this world."
"I don’t hate you," said Camilla icily, "and luckily my happiness is not in any way dependent on what you may say or do."
"Oh, yes, it is," said Rita quickly. "I’m going to prevent you from making a mistake. You’ve already made too many of them. You’re planning to go away to Kansas when your husband positively adores the very ground you walk on."
Having shot her bolt, like the skillful archer she put her head on one side and eagerly watched its flight. Camilla started up, one hand on the bed-post, her color vanishing.
"Who? Jeff?" She leaned back in her chair and laughed up at the ceiling. "Well, hardly. I don’t mind people telling me they adore the ground _I_ walk on, but——"
"How did you know?" Camilla glanced toward the door and into Mrs. Cheyne’s room, a new expression of dismay coming into her eyes. "You heard what passed in here—last night?"
"How could you—have listened?" Camilla gasped.