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There had taken place,
somehow, an enormous letting-off of strain--a heavenly relaxation of
spiritual muscles. It was so good just to have him know; to have others
know, as all her world did within the next week!
Ultimately nothing was changed, of course. The great thing that she had
promised Portia she wouldn't fail in getting--the real thing that should
solve the problem, equalize the disparity between her husband and
herself and give them a life together in satisfying completeness beyond
the joys of a pair of lovers;--that was still to be fought for.
She'd have to make that fight alone. Rodney wouldn't help her. He
wouldn't know how to help her. Indeed, interpreting from the way he
winced under her questions and suggestions, as if they wounded some
essentially masculine, primitive element of pride in him, it seemed
rather more likely that he'd resist her efforts--fight blindly against
her. She must be more careful about that when she took up the fight
again; must avoid hurting him if she could.


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