“If you were anything decent, you’d know that was a mistake, and forget it,” she said.
“I know it was a mistake—but I shan’t forget it. If you wake a man up, he can’t go to sleep again because he’s told to.”
“If you had any decent feeling in you, you’d have gone away,” she replied.
“I didn’t want to,” he replied.
She looked away into the distance. At last she asked:
“What do you persecute me for, if it isn’t for the money. I’m old enough to be your mother. In a way I’ve been your mother.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “You’ve been no mother to me. Let us marry and go out to Canada—you might as well—you’ve touched me.”
She was white and trembling. Suddenly she flushed with anger.
“It’s so indecent,” she said.
“How?” he retorted. “You touched me.”