“I’m sorry, Crissy, but I can’t tell you that—I wish I could,” he said, holding her tightly against him. “But it will be all right—you’ll see.”
He let her cry herself out without saying more. When she was finished, he held her away from him and pushed back her hair from her wet cheeks.
“Feel better now?”
“Not really.” She smiled weakly.
“Why don’t you wash your face while I get you something to eat, and then we can talk.”
“What I’d really like is to soak in a hot bath for hours. I’ve had nothing but cold baths for the last four months.”
“That will have to wait until later. We’ve got to talk first.”
“Oh, John, I don’t want to talk about it—I just want to forget.”
“I understand that, Crissy. But there are things I have to know. It would be better if we talked now, and then we can both forget it.”
“Very well, I suppose you’re right.” She got off the bed and looked about the room. “Give me a minute to—”
She stopped abruptly when she saw the crumpled piece of paper that John had thrown on the table earlier.
“How did that get here?” Her voice held a note of anger.
“What’s the matter with you, Crissy? I took it out of your hand before putting you to bed.”
“But I thought I had thrown—” She turned quickly to face him, frowning. “Did you read it?”
“No. Why are you so upset?”
“It’s my dismissal, you might say,” she said lightly, only her eyes were stormy. “But it doesn’t matter. How about that food?”
After supper, John poured two glasses of sherry and brought one to Christina in the dining room. He sat across from her with his legs sprawled beneath the table, and studied her face.
“Do you still love him?” John asked.
“No—I hate him now!” she said quickly, staring down at the glass she held before her.
“But only a month ago—”
She looked up at him, her eyes flashing dangerously. “That was before I found out what a cruel and selfish man he is.”
“Is that why you left him?”
“Left him? He sent me away! He left me that note saying that he no longer desired me and he wanted me gone before he returned. He couldn’t even tell me in person.”
“Is that why you hate him now—because he sent you away?”
“Yes! He cared nothing for me or for my feelings. I thought I loved him, and hoped he would come to love me. But now I know how foolish I was. He didn’t even care that I might be carrying his child!”
“Oh, God, Crissy—then he raped you!”
“Raped? No—he never actually raped me. I was sure I made it clear to you, John, in the letter I sent you. I thought you would understand that I gave myself to him. That’s why I asked your forgiveness.”
“I guess I haven’t been able to accept it. I didn’t want to believe it. But Crissy, if he didn’t rape you—you can’t mean that you gave in to him from the beginning?”
“I fought him!” she cried indignantly, trying to defend herself. “I fought him with all the strength I had.”
“Then he did rape you?”
