nonsense from the past.”
But Marion was sitting up very straight, and she looked at him from the bed, her hand cold and taut in his.
“What if the 'nonsense,' as you call it, destroyed people's lives? Do I have a right to forget that, George?”
“Why, Marion, what could you have done to destroy someone's life?” He suddenly wondered if the doctor had given her some powerful drug. Or perhaps this last attack had affected her mentally. She wasn't making sense.
But she settled back among her pillows and closed her eyes. “You don't understand.”
“Should I?” His voice was gentle in the dimly lit room.
“Perhaps. Maybe, if you knew, you wouldn't be so anxious to marry me.”
“Don't be absurd. But if that's how you feel, then I think I have a right to know what's bothering you. What is it?” He never let go of her hand, and at last she opened her eyes. She stared at him for a long time before she spoke.
“I don't know if I can tell you.”
“Why not? I can't think of anything that would shock me. And I can't imagine anything about you that I don't know.” They had had no secrets from each other for years. “I'm beginning to think the seizure this afternoon just rocked you a bit.”
“The truth I had to face did that.” Her tone was one he had never heard from her, and when he looked at her again there were tears in her eyes. He wanted to put his arms around her and make it all better, but he understood now that she really did have something very important to tell him. Could she have been having an affair with someone for all these years? The idea suddenly shocked him. But he could even have accepted that. He loved her. He had always loved her. He had waited too long for this moment to let anything spoil it.
“Did something special happen this afternoon?” He watched her very closely, waiting for the answer, but her eyes only closed as the tears poured silently down her cheeks, and at last she nodded and whispered “Yes.”
“I see. Well, relax now. Let's not get all excited about it.” She was beginning to worry him. He didn't want her to have another seizure.
“I saw the girl.”
“What girl?” What in God's name was she talking about?
“The girl Michael was in love with.” The tears stopped for a moment, and she sat up very straight and looked at him. “Do you remember the night of Michael's accident, when he came down to the city to see me? You came in, and he stalked out. He was furious. He had come down to tell me that he was going to many that girl. And I showed him that… that report I'd had done on her …”
Her voice drifted off for a moment as she remembered, and George's brow furrowed deeper. She must be confused by some drug. That was the only explanation. That girl had died in the accident.
“Marion dear, you couldn't have seen the girl. As I recall, she … she uh … passed on in the—”
But Marion shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. “No, George. She didn't. I said she did, and Wicky kept his mouth shut, but the girl lived. Her face was destroyed, though. Everything but her eyes.” George watched her silently but he was listening. This was a distraught Marion, an agonized Marion, but it wasn't a crazy Marion. He knew she was telling the truth. “I went into her room that night and offered her a deal.” He waited, silently. She closed her eyes as though in pain, and he squeezed her hand tighten.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded quietly and opened her eyes again. “Yes. Maybe I'll feel better once I tell you. I offered her a deal. Her face in exchange for Michael. There are a lot of prettier ways to say it, but that's what it boils down to. Wicky said he knew of one man in the country who could restore her face. It would cost a fortune, but he could do it. I told her about it, offered to pay for it and anything else she needed until all the operations were over. I offered her a whole new life, a life she'd never had, as long as she agreed not to seek out Michael again.”
“And she agreed?”
“Yes.” It was a small, rocklike word.
“Then she couldn't have loved him very much anyway. And you did a damn