He’s broken the contract—he knows that it was tacitly understood that there should be nothing of this—In fact, it wasn’t so much as thought of—ever.
Right on my mouth!...
Well, I don’t owe him anything after this. I shan’t speak to him again. I shall have nothing more to do with him. He’s a right to my name as his official fiancée, he can keep that—at a distance! My name—nothing else. I shan’t go on staying with his people after this! Let him make what excuse he chooses to his mother about that. Let him explain it away as he likes. I shan’t help him!
If it were to save his life, I’d never lift a finger to help him again!
I shall go away at once....
How could he! Whether it was a vulgar attempt at flirtation, or simply that he was riled and meant to be rude to me in the most brutal manner he could think of—I don’t care which it was!
What had I said—done—looked—that he should imagine he might?
After this, he might even say I’d encouraged him!
Hateful, hateful!