her.
«Bradley, don't-be like that-Please talk to me.»
«Don't try to touch me,» I said.
«All right, I won't. But please talk.»
«There's nothing to talk about. I have done what I swore to myself I would never do, told you about my condition. I don't have to emphasize, I think you must already have gathered, that this is all rather extreme. I shall tomorrow do what I should have done earlier, go away. What I do not propose to do is to gratify your girlish vanity by a display of my feelings.»
«Bradley, listen, listen. I'm not good at explaining or arguing but – You see, you can't just unload all this onto me and then run off. It isn't fair. You must see that.»
«I'm beyond fairness,» I said. «I just want to survive. I'm sure you feel a curiosity which it is natural to try to gratify. Even perhaps politeness suggests that one should be a little less abrupt. But I honestly don't care a hang about considering your feelings and all that. It's possibly the worst thing I've ever done. But now it's done there's little point in lingering over a post-mortem, however much satisfaction you might derive from it.»
«Don't you want to talk to me about your love?»
The question had a striking simplicity. I was clear about the answer. «No. It's all spoilt. I endlessly imagined talking to you about it, but that just belonged to the fantasy world. I can't talk love to you in the real world. The real world rejects it. It's not that it would be a crime so much as-absurd. I feel quite cold and-dry. What do you want? To hear me praise your eyes?»
«Has telling your love-made your love-end?»
«No. But it's-it's not-it has no speech any more-it's just something I've got to carry away and live with. When I hadn't told you I could endlessly imagine myself telling you. Now-the tongue has been cut out.»
«I-Bradley, don't go-I must-oh help me-find the right words-This is important-And it concerns me-You talk as if there was nobody here but you.»
«There is nobody here but me,» I said. «You're just something in my dream.»
«That's not true. I'm real. I hear your words. I can suffer.»
«Suffer? You?» I got up with a sort of laugh and set off again. This time before I could take more than a step or two Julian, still sitting down, had managed to capture one of my hands in two of hers. I looked down into her face. I willed to pull my hand from her, but somewhere between the brain and the hand the message got lost. I stood looking down into her urgent face which seemed to have hardened and aged. She gazed at me, not tenderly but frowning with intent, the eyes narrowed into thin questioning rectangles, the lips parted, the nose wrinkled with some sort of delicate fastidious doubt. She said, «Sit down, please.» I sat down, and she released my hand.
We looked at each other. «Bradley, you can't go.»
«It looks like it. Do you know, you are a very cruel young lady.»
«This isn't cruelty. There's something I've got to understand. You say you're just concerned with yourself. All right. I'm just concerned with myself. And you did start it. You can't just stop it now when you decide to. I'm an equal partner in this game.»
«I hope you are enjoying the game. It must be pleasant to feel blood on your claws. It'll give you something nice to think about when you lie in bed tonight.»
«Don't be beastly to me, Bradley, it isn't my fault. I didn't invite you to fall in love with me. I never dreamt of it at all. When did it happen? When did you first begin to notice me in that way?»
«All right, I dare say I can trust your discretion. But I must now ask you to release me from this unkind and unseemly inquisition.»
