Arnold in a light macintosh, with his exhausted denuded emotional face, looked like some sort of fanatical gunman. His pale, pale eyes stared and his lips were moving as if he were soundlessly stammering. «Oh Julian- come away-You can't stay here with this man-You must have lost your mind-Look, here's a letter from your mother begging you to come home-I'll put it here, please read it-How can you be so pitiless and callous, staying here and-I suppose you've been-after poor Priscilla-«What about Priscilla?» said Julian.
«So he hasn't told you?» said Arnold. He did not look at me. His teeth clicked together and there was a spasm in his face, perhaps the attempt to conceal a glare of triumph or pleasure.
«What about Priscilla?»
«Priscilla is dead,» I said. «She killed herself yesterday with an overdose.»
«He knew this morning,» said Arnold. «Francis told him by telephone.»
«That's correct,» I said. «When I told you I was going to the garage I went to telephone Francis and he told me.»
«And you didn't tell me? You hid it-and then we-all the afternoon we were-«Ach-« said Arnold.
Julian ignored him, staring at me and drawing my jacket closer about her, its collar turned up enclosing her tousled hair, her hands crossed at the neck. «Why?»
I rose. «It's hard to explain,» I said, «but please try to understand. There was nothing more I could do for Priscilla. And for you-I had to stay-and bear the burden of being silent. It wasn't callousness.»
«Lust might be its name,» said Arnold.
Tears overflowed Julian's eyes and dropped down onto the lapels of my jacket. «Oh Bradley-how could you- how could we-oh poor, poor Priscilla-what a terrible thing-«He is irresponsible,» said Arnold. «Or else he's a bit mad. He's totally callous. His sister dies and he won't leave his lovemaking.»
«Oh Bradley-poor Priscilla-«
«Julian, I was going to tell you tomorrow. I was going to tell you everything tomorrow. I had to stay today. You saw how it was. We were both possessed, we were held here, we couldn't have gone, it had to happen as it did.»
«He's mad.»
«Tomorrow we'll go back to ordinary things, tomorrow we'll think about Priscilla and I'll tell you all about it and how much I am to blame-«
«It was my fault,» said Julian, «it was because of me. Otherwise you would have been with her.»
«One can't stop people from killing themselves if they're determined to. It may even be wrong to do so. Her life had become very sad.»
«A convenient justification,» said Arnold. «So you think Priscilla is better off dead, do you?»
«No. I'm just saying it-at least could be thought about like that-I don't want Julian to feel that-Oh Julian, I ought to have told you.»
«Yes-It's-I feel a sort of doom on us-Oh Bradley, why didn't you say-?»
«Sometimes one has to be silent even if it hurts awfully. I wanted your consolation, of course I did. But something else was more important.»
«The sexual gratification of an elderly man,» said Arnold. «Think, Julian, think. He is thirty-eight years older than you are.»
«No, he isn't,» said Julian. «He's forty-six, and that's-Arnold gave a sort of laugh and there was the same
