Page:Frank Owen - The Actress.djvu/14

2 "I have been to the home of the Waddington's before," said he. "Surely when a man has known a woman as many years as I have known you, he must of necessity begin to understand her."

She laughed softly, as though she were enjoying the situation immensely. "I sometimes wonder," she mused whimsically, "whether a man really ever does grow to understand a woman."

"I was conscious of my error as soon as I had made it," replied Jerold Wharton quickly, but in his voice there was no longer any trace of humor. "To me," he went on slowly, thoughtfully, as though he were carefully choosing each word, "woman has always seemed like the jungle—ununderstood, unconquerable and merciless. But you can always depend on the jungle. It is always terrible. You know when you enter it that you must fight."

For a moment she sat silent, gazing at the softly murmuring water, a faraway look in her fine gray eyes.

"One can scarcely charge you with being a lover of women," she said presently.

"And yet I am," came the soft reply. "To me woman has always seemed God's greatest creation. But even Creation has made mistakes. All women are not worthy of the title. But all ought to endeavor to be." He paused for a moment, then he said: "Last season in London I saw you portray the leading rôle in Carmody's great play, 'The Better Self.' I saw you fighting against predestined conditions; struggling with hateful impulse; praying in the darkness that you might behold the light. And I saw a wonderful