He flared red again, set his jaw. All at once he relaxed. There came a kind of hopeful bravado into his voice.
"It's no use," he said. "You can't get me to believe any such thing as this. But you've given me a bad jolt—if that's any satisfaction. I suppose what you're after is to discipline me a bit. That's why you've rounded on me like this.... Well, I'll admit I've deserved it. But if you only knew how that little demon worked on me ... damn her!"
He brought his fist down on the arm of his chair several times.
"Damn her! Damn her!" he kept repeating back of his locked teeth.
Now Sophy reddened.
"Don't...." she exclaimed, in revolt. "Don't lay the blame on a woman ... a girl...."
"Why shouldn't I lay it where it belongs?"
"Then lay it on yourself," she retorted, with passion. "Take the blame like a man ... let me remember you as acting like a man ... not like a spoiled child...."
"A 'spoiled child,' am I?"
"Yes, Morris, yes.... And that makes me patient with you. You haven't had half a chance—no, not from boyhood. And I ... I've helped.... Oh, do you think ... do you dream ... that if it hadn't been for that, I'd have stayed one moment under your roof after you said those vile, unspeakable things to me? Don't you understand?... It is over.... I am going back to my own home. I will never live with you again.... Never.... Never!"