He leaned across the table and placing his hand on her bare shoulder, drew his fingers voluptuously down the arm. Virginia started back, feeling repulsion and disgust even at his touch.
"Oh! What's the matter?" he exclaimed sarcastically. "Is there anything wrong in a man telling his wife she's pretty? Is there?"
She remained silent and, frowning, he repeated his question:
"Is there?"
"No," she said quickly.
"Then why do you want to quarrel with me?"
"I don't want to quarrel with you."
"Then we're friends, are we?"
"Yes."
Holding out an unsteady hand, he said: