He [
Franchot Tone] couldn't accept me as Barbara Payton from the day of our marriage. If he could have we might have been happy. But I was the Barbara Payton of
Tom Neal's--of my lover's--of my past--all of it. He hated me for what I had been and loved me for what I was. He tortured himself. I was only somebody for his doubts, fears, recriminations to bounce off. I resolved to let himself spend himself of the torture. It was endless. It built and there was no end in sight. Every part of my body reminded him of another man . . . It couldn't work. I agreed to give him a divorce by default. After days of wrangling and reconciliations our attorneys agreed on a settlement.