Andree did not appear to notice that Bert was present.
He laid his hand on Kendall’s arm. “Come along,” he said. “Don’t say something you’ll be sorry for.... If you want Andree to go away, I’ll take her.... Come on into your room.” He was really apprehensive, for Kendall’s eyes glowed somberly, his face was convulsed with toxic emotion.
Ken shook off his friend’s hand. “Leave me be.... This is my affair.” He pointed to the door. “Go!...” he said to Andree, his voice quivering. “You don’t know what you’ve done—what miserable thing you’ve done.... I despise you.... I despise you....”
Bert stepped forward and touched her arm. “You’d better go, I guess,” he said in a low tone. “Ken’s pretty excited. Let me take you down.” His voice was sympathetic.
Andree did not move. “Oh, I do not onderstan’.... I do not onderstan’ ...” she said, like a frightened child.
“Don’t lie,” said Kendall, furiously. “Go!... And never come back.... I’ll never see you again.”
She stood an instant more, her eyes seeking his, demanding of his. Then, very slowly, very quietly, without sob or even a quiver of her dainty lips, she turned and walked to the door. There she paused and turned to look at him again, rather drooping, hopeless, appealing.... “Oh, it is not well.... I do not onderstan’,” she said.
Kendall turned his back.... In another instant the door had opened and closed and Andree was gone. He stood with hands clenched, experiencing a certain unholy satisfaction. He had done the thing thoroughly. He had finished it. He had told her what he thought of her, and he was rid of her forever.
Presently Bert returned. He walked up to his friend with a grim look upon his usually nonchalant face. “That was pretty average brutal,” he said. “Maybe it’s good Presbyterian to do that sort of thing.... If it is, I thank God I’m a heathen.... That poor little kid! Did you see her face?...”