The Woman, the Man, and the Monster
“Jezebel! Do you think I can’t see through those false eyes of yours into that false heart? The veil is lifted. I see into every throbbing cell of your polluted soul, and I know you now for what you are.”
She smiled reassuringly.
“If you can see into my soul, Digby, I am no longer afraid.”
“Yet it seems to me that you should be the more afraid,’ he answered slowly, with per- haps a touch of bewilderment. “Why are you less afraid?”
“Because if you can see into my soul you must see the love that is there for you.” He scowled ominously. “Ah, then you cannot see! You are trifling with me. It is really your wish that I should be misunderstood.”
“No, no,” he ejaculated, a little confusedly; “my wish is to understand. It is you who be- wilder me, you who would lead me from the path I have mapped out—the just, straight path. Take those devilish eyes away. They are eating into my heart.”
“There was a time when you professed to admire them. Have they grown dim, old, ugly? Am I so hideous as to have lost all
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