I can't talk to him about that play; and I wouldn't if I could,
for it only makes him unhappy. But you don't care whether he's unhappy or
not; you only think of yourself.'
'You surely don't believe what you are saying is true? To-morrow you will
be sorry for what you have said. You cannot think that I would deceive you,
Emily? Remember what friends we have been.'
'I remember everything. You think I don't; but I do. And you think also
that there's no reason why I should be miserable; but there is. Because you
do not feel my misery, you think it doesn't exist. I daresay you think,
too, that you are very good and kind; but you aren't. You think you deceive
me; but you don't. I know all that is passing between you and Hubert. I
know a great deal more than I can explain....'
'But tell me, Emily, what is it you suspect? What do you accuse me of?'
'I accuse you of nothing. Can't you understand that things may go wrong
without it being any one's fault in particular?'
Julia wondered how Emily could think so wisely. She seemed to have grown
wiser in her grief. But grief helped her no further in her instinctive
perception of the truth, and she resumed her puerile attack on her friend.
'Nothing has gone well with me ever since you came here.
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