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Becoming aware of that, she raised her head. Portia wasn't looking at
her, but down at her own clenched hands.
"It needed just that, I suppose," she heard her older sister say between
almost motionless lips. "I thought it was pretty complete before, but
it took that to make it perfect--that you think I'm the lucky one--lucky
never to have had a husband, or any one else for that matter, to love
me. And lucky now, to have to give up the only substitute I had for
that."
"Portia!" Rose cried out, for the mordant alkaline bitterness in her
sister's voice and the tragic irony in her face, were almost terrifying.
But the outcry might never have been uttered for any effect it had.
"I hoped this wouldn't happen," the words came steadily on, one at a
time. "I hoped I could get this over and get away out of your life
altogether without letting it happen. But I can't. Perhaps it's just as
well--perhaps it may do you some good. But that's not why I'm doing it.
I'm doing it for myself. Just for once, I'm going to let go! You won't
like it.


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