“Yes, I have.”
“Not that sort of feeling.”
Thayler held the glass in his hand very tightly. Fenner could see his knuckles were white. “After this, I’m through with you. I’m not going to have another evening like this one.”
Glorie laughed suddenly. “I’m sending you away, not you sending me. Shall I tell you why?”
“I’m sick of hearing it. I know it backwards.”
Glorie said spitefully, “No, you don’t. It’s because you’re no good. You never were any good and I waited and waited, hoping you’d get used to me, because you looked good. But you’re a flop. You don’t know anything about it. You only think you do.”
Thayler put his glass carefully on the table. He walked up to her and put his hands on her shoulders. His face was very white. “You know that’s a damn lie, don’t you?” he said.
She flung his hands off. “You’re hoping it’s a lie, aren’t you? You want to save some of your silly little pride.”
He moved forward and, reaching out, he ripped the front of her dress down to her waist. She threw up her hands. “What are you going to do?” she said, her voice suddenly hoarse. “You going to beat me again? That’s all you’re any good at, isn’t it? You can’t take a woman like any other man, you’ve got to do other things.”
Fenner pushed his hat to the back of his head and moved a little further forward.