What should she say? How deny—how convince him? For convince him she must, and then go away and never permit him to speak to her again until he had apologized. She said quietly: "Mr. Keith, you have insulted me."
"I do not like kept women, either with or without a license," said he in the same even, indifferent way. "When you ceased to be a kept woman, I would help you, if I could. But no one can help a kept woman."
There was nothing to do but to rise and go away. She rose and went toward the house. At the veranda she paused. He had not moved. She returned. He was still inspecting the horizon, the cigarette depending from his lips—how DID he keep it alight? She said:
"Mr. Keith, I am sure you did not mean to insult me. What did you mean?"
"Another of those questions," said he.
"Honestly, I do not understand."
"Then think. And when you have thought, you will understand."
"But I have thought. I do not understand."
"Then it would be useless to explain," said he. "That is one of those vital things which, if one cannot understand them for oneself, one is hopeless—is beyond helping."
"You mean I am not in earnest about my career?"