“It leaves you nobody to care for——” he replied.
“How very sarcastic you are. You make one reservation.”
“Do I?” he answered, smiling. “But you fire sharp into the air, and then say we’re all blank cartridges—except one, of course.”
“You?” she queried, ironically—“oh, you would forever hang fire.”
“‘Cold dinners!’” he quoted in bitterness. “But you knew I loved you. You knew well enough.”
“Past tense,” she replied, “thanks—make it perfect next time.”
“It’s you who hang fire—it’s you who make me,” he said.
“And so from the retort circumstantial to the retort direct,’” she replied, smiling.
“You see—you put me off,” he insisted, growing excited. For reply, she held out her hand and showed him the ring. She smiled very quietly. He stared at her with darkening anger.
“Will you gather the rugs and stools together, and put them in that corner?” she said.