"In ... this house...?" he stammered.
"In any house of yours, Morris."
Now his lips whitened. Sophy felt sick. But she had to go through with it—she had to....
"What am I to understand by that?" he asked at last, his voice husky.
"Ah! I'm sorry...." she said, her own voice quivering. "But ... it's the end.... It's all ... over...."
"What is?" he asked; but he knew already.
"Our life together," she answered.
He said nothing, just sat there looking down at the bit of yellow paper in his hands, which he folded and refolded with the utmost nicety. Then he asked:
"Do you suppose that I'll take this seriously?"
"I hope you will."