“I’m afraid I must seem to you very rude,” he said, “but when one is speaking out of the pit of despair the words one utters are black words. These last few days I’ve been seeing you with critical eyes: watching you, listening to you. And the result is ...”
“What?” she asked, as he paused.
“I realize more and more how I dislike all this fooling with the surface of things—surface emotions, surface wit, surface honesty. I can’t get down to the real You: the veneer is so thick. All that I have seen and heard belongs to the superficial. I’m beginning to think there’s nothing real or solid under it all. The things you say are clever empty things; the things you do....”
She rose to her feet and faced him—a shadow confronting a shadow.
“We seem to be getting further away all the time from the original point of contention,” she said, her voice rising. “I suppose that is what is called ‘confusing the issue.’ It is rather clever. But please try to remember that I am accusing you of deceit and disgusting duplicity. I am accusing you of being with a woman whom even your obnoxious cousin couldn’t stand seeing you with, so that he had to try to separate you.”
“Oh, he said that, did he?” Daniel’s tone was apathetic.
“Do you deny it?” she asked, quickly.
“No,” he answered. “If you believe the story, it has served its purpose.”
“How can I not believe it?” she cried. “You don’t deny it.”
“Why should I deny it?” he demanded. “It is not a compromise with you I am looking for: I am looking for your trust.”