And now, again, she lost herself
more miserably still, and yielded with hysteric recklessness to a
bitter outburst of gaiety.
"If you wish to be married happily," she cried, "never be as fond of
any other woman as you have been of me. We are none of us worth it.
Laugh at us, Hugh--do anything but believe in us. We all lie, my
friend. And I have been lying--shamelessly! shamelessly!"
He tried to check her. "Don't talk in that way, Iris," he said sternly.
She laughed at him. "Talk?" she repeated. "It isn't that; it's a
confession."
"I don't desire to hear your confession."
"You must hear it--you have drawn it out of me. Come! we'll enjoy my
humiliation together. Contradict every word I said to you about that
brute and blackguard, the doctor--and you will have the truth. What
horrid inconsistency, isn't it? I can't help myself; I am a wretched,
unreasonable creature; I don't know my own mind for two days together,
and all through my husband--I am so fond of him; Harry is delightfully
innocent; he's like a nice boy; he never seemed to think of Mr.
Vimpany, till it was settled between them that the doctor was to come
and stay here----and then he persuaded me--oh, I don't know how!--to
see his friend in quite a new light.
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