"Very well then," looking at her watch, "perhaps I had better dress, for it is rather near the dinner hour."
"And is that all you have to say to me?" he asked with quivering lips.
"What would you have me say?"
"Anything would be better than this coldness—this avoidance of all that is most vital to us both. Even if you raved and stormed, I could stand it better, for I might have a chance to explain. Things are not as bad as you think."
"They are bad enough for me!" she returned calmly, her lovely profile and the lowered sweep of her eyelashes, her straight carriage and the gentle curve of her bosom, outlined against the dark hangings of the window.
"Will you listen to me for a bit?"
"I would rather not."
"Then you condemn me outright?"
"You have condemned yourself."
"You cannot have forgotten my love for you?" he cried desperately.