"Possible?..." she echoed. "They say anything is possible, but ... somehow men...."
She threw him a glance of thinly veiled mockery. His tension relaxed. She had merely parried the blow and he felt disappointed.
"I realize now," she went on, "what a frightful nuisance I've been.... The first time we met.... I was in trouble then, I remember. That sort of thing grows to be a habit.... You meant it for the best, of course, but this time you pushed me in pretty far ... I mean into your debt. I wish I knew how I could repay you."
"I'm willing to accept a deferred payment," he chaffed. "I'll take your note.... I'm very patient at waiting."
She looked at him clearly, almost too clearly, as if in one flashing moment she saw behind the mask of his banter.... He began to wonder ... had he hoped to have her flinch, recoil, or was this cool calm more acceptable?
"I see," she was saying, "you're determined to plunge me in deeper and deeper, until one day ... well, one day I'll be a bankrupt, won't I?"
He leaned across the trivial width of the table and he put two burning hands upon her icy-cold fingers. "Ah, but think how rich I shall be!"
She said nothing. She did not even draw back from his scorching touch. But this time she lowered her eyes, twisting in her left hand the crumpled straw divested of its gaudy sweetmeat.... She was a tired woman, he could see that plainly—a tired woman ... considering. And he was not even moved to pity.
"Come," he said, roughly. "Let's get out of this ghastly hole."
She rose with a fluttering movement that gave him the impression of a trapped bird. They made their way out in silence. A great primitive eagerness struck down every acquired virtue within him. He put his hand at her elbow and held it tight. He felt that she had clenched her fist.