She fought against it. I know she struggled...
but I gave her no help. I couldn't. I was en
trenched in my gloomy, sullen reserve. I was suf
fering like hell--and I couldn't stretch out a finger
to save myself. I didn't help her. I made things
worse. I let loose at her one day--a string of sav
age, unwarranted abuse. I was nearly mad with
jealousy and misery. The things I said were cruel
and untrue and I knew while I was saying them
how cruel and how untrue they were. And yet I
took a savage pleasure in saying them ....
I remember how Sylvia flushed and shrank ....
I drove her to the edge of endurance.
I remember she said, "This can't go on "
Whe
n
I came home that night the house was empty--empty.
There was a note--quite in the traditional
fashion.
In
it she said that she was leaving me--for good. She
was going down to Badgeworthy for a day or two.
After that she was going to the one person who
loved her and needed her. I was to take tha as
final.
I
suppose that up to then I hadn't really believed my
own suspicions. This confirmation in black and
white of my worst fears sent me raving mad. I went
down to Badgeworthy after her as fast as the car