Part Two
Chapter 17: Lying to Cecil
(continued)
"What do you mean by a new voice?" she asked, seized with
incontrollable anger.
"I mean that a new person seems speaking through you," said he.
Then she lost her balance. She cried: "If you think I am in love
with some one else, you are very much mistaken."
"Of course I don't think that. You are not that kind, Lucy."
"Oh, yes, you do think it. It's your old idea, the idea that has
kept Europe back--I mean the idea that women are always thinking
of men. If a girl breaks off her engagement, every one says: 'Oh,
she had some one else in her mind; she hopes to get some one
else.' It's disgusting, brutal! As if a girl can't break it off
for the sake of freedom."
He answered reverently: "I may have said that in the past. I
shall never say it again. You have taught me better."
She began to redden, and pretended to examine the windows again.
"Of course, there is no question of 'some one else' in this, no
'jilting' or any such nauseous stupidity. I beg your pardon most
humbly if my words suggested that there was. I only meant that
there was a force in you that I hadn't known of up till now."
"All right, Cecil, that will do. Don't apologize to me. It was my
mistake."
"It is a question between ideals, yours and mine--pure abstract
ideals, and yours are the nobler. I was bound up in the old
vicious notions, and all the time you were splendid and new." His
voice broke. "I must actually thank you for what you have done--
for showing me what I really am. Solemnly, I thank you for
showing me a true woman. Will you shake hands?"
"Of course I will," said Lucy, twisting up her other hand in the
curtains. "Good-night, Cecil. Good-bye. That's all right. I'm
sorry about it. Thank you very much for your gentleness."
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