I knew you'd be against me.
But don't you see, Oliver, you helped to make it impossible for us.
OLIVER. Did I? I didn't intend to.
ANABEL. Ha, ha, Oliver! Your good intentions! They are too good to
bear investigation, my friend. Ah, but for your good and friendly
intentions---
OLIVER. You mean my friendship with Gerald went against you?
ANABEL. Yes. And your friendship with me went against Gerald.
OLIVER. So I am the devil in the piece.
ANABEL. You see, Oliver, Gerald loved you far too well ever to love
me altogether. He loved us both. But the Gerald that loved you so
dearly, old, old friends as you were, and TRUSTED you, he turned a
terrible face of contempt on me. You don't know, Oliver, the cold
edge of Gerald's contempt for me--because he was so secure and strong
in his old friendship with you. You don't know his sneering attitude
to me in the deepest things with you. He had a passion for me. But
he loved you.
OLIVER. Well, he doesn't any more. We went apart after you had gone.
The friendship has become almost casual.
ANABEL. You see how bitterly you speak.
OLIVER. Yet you didn't hate me, Anabel.
ANABEL. No, Oliver--I was AWFULLY fond of you. I trusted you--and I
trust you still. You see I knew how fond Gerald was of you. And I
had to respect this feeling. So I HAD to be aware of you: and I HAD
to be conscious of you: in a way, I had to love you.
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