"Well, I don't, and I won't, by God!" he retorted, in a sort of fierce whisper, and the violent words sounded strange uttered in that whispering voice.
Sophy sat still, her eyes on his.
"Morris," she said, "do you think that I will ever be your wife again, after what you said to me the other day? After what you accused me of?"
The blood rushed into his face, up to the very roots of his hair.
"I was mad.... I didn't know what I was saying——"
"You knew well what you were saying.... You were only mad with rage.... I can never forgive those words—never really forgive them. There's some part of me that cannot forgive them."
He looked at her doggedly. His face was a mask of obstinacy.
"What did I say?" he demanded. "I've forgotten.... I was beside myself, I tell you.... What were those unforgivable words?"
Sophy did not reply at once; then she said softly, on a deep breath:
"Oh ... Morris!..."