Robert: [after reading the letter] What does it mean?...What does it mean?
Leslie: It means that I was in love with Geoff Hammond.
Robert: No!
Leslie: Been in love for years.
Robert: I don't believe it.
Leslie: We used to meet each other constantly once or twice a week. Not a soul had the smallest suspicion. Every time I met him, I hated myself. Yet I'd live for the moment that I'd see him again. It was horrible. There was never an hour when I was at peace and I wasn't reproaching myself. I was like a person who was sick with some loathsome disease and doesn't want to get well. Even my agony was a kind of joy. Then there came a time about a year ago. He began to change toward me. I didn't know what was the matter. I was frantic. I made scenes. I threw myself at his feet...Then I heard about that - that native woman. Oh, I couldn't believe it, I wouldn't believe it. The last I saw her, I saw her walking in the village with those hideous bangles, that chalky painted face, those eyes like a cobra's eyes. But I couldn't give him up. I sent for him. You read the letter. Oh, we'd always been so careful about writing before. This time, I didn't care. I hadn't seen him for ten days. He came to see me. I told him I'd heard about his marriage. At first he denied it. Oh, I was so frantic. I don't know it, I said to him. I hated him because he made me despise myself. I insulted him, I cursed him. I was beside myself. At last, he turned on me. He told me he was sick and tired of me, that it was true about that other woman, that she was the only one that had ever meant anything to him. And that he was glad that I knew, because now I'd leave him alone. When he got up to go, I knew if he left I'd never see him again, so I seized the revolver and fired. I heard a cry...he staggered toward the veranda, and I ran after him and fired and fired and fired. There's no excuse for me. I don't deserve to live.
[Robert rushes out]
Howard: He's going to forgive you.
Leslie: Yes. He's going to forgive me.
Leslie: It means that I was in love with Geoff Hammond.
Robert: No!
Leslie: Been in love for years.
Robert: I don't believe it.
Leslie: We used to meet each other constantly once or twice a week. Not a soul had the smallest suspicion. Every time I met him, I hated myself. Yet I'd live for the moment that I'd see him again. It was horrible. There was never an hour when I was at peace and I wasn't reproaching myself. I was like a person who was sick with some loathsome disease and doesn't want to get well. Even my agony was a kind of joy. Then there came a time about a year ago. He began to change toward me. I didn't know what was the matter. I was frantic. I made scenes. I threw myself at his feet...Then I heard about that - that native woman. Oh, I couldn't believe it, I wouldn't believe it. The last I saw her, I saw her walking in the village with those hideous bangles, that chalky painted face, those eyes like a cobra's eyes. But I couldn't give him up. I sent for him. You read the letter. Oh, we'd always been so careful about writing before. This time, I didn't care. I hadn't seen him for ten days. He came to see me. I told him I'd heard about his marriage. At first he denied it. Oh, I was so frantic. I don't know it, I said to him. I hated him because he made me despise myself. I insulted him, I cursed him. I was beside myself. At last, he turned on me. He told me he was sick and tired of me, that it was true about that other woman, that she was the only one that had ever meant anything to him. And that he was glad that I knew, because now I'd leave him alone. When he got up to go, I knew if he left I'd never see him again, so I seized the revolver and fired. I heard a cry...he staggered toward the veranda, and I ran after him and fired and fired and fired. There's no excuse for me. I don't deserve to live.
[Robert rushes out]
Howard: He's going to forgive you.
Leslie: Yes. He's going to forgive me.
Robert : [after reading the letter] What does it mean?...What does it mean?
Leslie : It means that I was in love with Geoff Hammond.
Robert : No!
Leslie : Been in love for years.
Robert : I don't believe it.
Leslie : We used to meet each other constantly once or twice a week. Not a soul had the smallest suspicion. Every time I met him, I hated myself. Yet I'd live for the moment that I'd see him again. It was horrible. There was never an hour when I was at peace and I wasn't reproaching myself. I was like a person who was sick with some loathsome disease and doesn't want to get well. Even my agony was a kind of joy. Then there came a time about a year ago. He began to change toward me. I didn't know what was the matter. I was frantic. I made scenes. I threw myself at his feet...Then I heard about that - that native woman. Oh, I couldn't believe it, I wouldn't believe it. The last I saw her, I saw her walking in the village with those hideous bangles, that chalky painted face, those eyes like a cobra's eyes. But I couldn't give him up. I sent for him. You read the letter. Oh, we'd always been so careful about writing before. This time, I didn't care. I hadn't seen him for ten days. He came to see me. I told him I'd heard about his marriage. At first he denied it. Oh, I was so frantic. I don't know it, I said to him. I hated him because he made me despise myself. I insulted him, I cursed him. I was beside myself. At last, he turned on me. He told me he was sick and tired of me, that it was true about that other woman, that she was the only one that had ever meant anything to him. And that he was glad that I knew, because now I'd leave him alone. When he got up to go, I knew if he left I'd never see him again, so I seized the revolver and fired. I heard a cry...he staggered toward the veranda, and I ran after him and fired and fired and fired. There's no excuse for me. I don't deserve to live.
[Robert rushes out]
Howard : He's going to forgive you.
Leslie : Yes. He's going to forgive me.
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