Maskull literally snorted at her words. “What, you live with filth—you live in the arms of a morbid monstrosity and then—”
“Oh, now I grasp it,” she said, in a tone of perfect detachment.
“I’m glad.”
“Well, Maskull,” she proceeded, after a pause, “and who gave you the right to rule my conduct? Am I not mistress of my own person?”
He looked at her with disgust, but said nothing. There was another long interval of silence.
“I never loved him,” said Oceaxe at last, looking at the ground.
“That makes it all the worse.”
“What does all this mean—what do you want?”
“Nothing from you—absolutely nothing—thank heaven!”
She gave a hard laugh. “You come here with your foreign preconceptions and expect us all to bow down to them.”