He glanced at her with a frown. "How much was it? You had no right to pay!"
"You couldn't have got either doctor or room without payment in advance." She spoke tranquilly, with a quiet assurance of manner that was new in her, the nervous and sensitive about causing displeasure in others. She added, "Don't be cross, Rod. You know it's only pretense."
"Don't you believe anybody has any decency?" demanded he.
"It depends on what you mean by decency," replied she. "But why talk of the past? Let's forget it."
"I would that I could!" exclaimed he.
She laughed at his heroics. "Put that in your play," said she. "But this isn't the melodrama of the stage. It's the farce comedy of life."
"How you have changed! Has all the sweetness, all the womanliness, gone out of your character?"
She showed how little she was impressed. "I've learned to take terrible things—really terrible things—without making a fuss—or feeling like making a fuss. You can't expect me to get excited over mere staginess. They're fond of fake emotions up in this part of town. But down where I've been so long the real horrors come too thick and fast for there to be any time to fake."
He continued to frown, presently came out of a deep study to say, "Susie, I see I've got to have a serious talk with you."
"Wait till you're well, my dear," said she. "I'm afraid I'll not be very sympathetic with your seriousness."