"If what—what—what?" he mimicked her ecstatically, not listening.
She saw that if she wished to make him hear her she must put more distance between them, and she rose and moved across the room. From the fireplace she turned to add—"if we hadn't been saying good-bye?"
"Good-bye—now? What's the use of talking like that?" He jumped up and followed her. "Look here, Undine—I'll do anything on earth you want; only don't talk of going! If you'll only stay I'll make it all as straight and square as you please. I'll get Bertha Shallum to stop over with you for the summer; I'll take a house at Trouville and make my wife come out there. Hang it, she SHALL, if you say so! Only be a little good to me!"
Still she stood before him without speaking, aware that her implacable brows and narrowed lips would hold him off as long as she chose.
"What's the matter. Undine? Why don't you answer? You know you can't go back to that deadly dry-rot!"
She swept about on him with indignant eyes. "I can't go on with my present life either. It's hateful—as hateful as the other. If I don't go home I've got to decide on something different."
"What do you mean by 'something different'?" She was silent, and he insisted: "Are you really thinking of marrying Chelles?"
She started as if he had surprised a secret. "I'll never forgive you if you speak of it—"
"Good Lord! Good Lord!" he groaned.
She remained motionless, with lowered lids, and he went up to her and pulled her about so that she faced him. "Undine, honour bright—do you think he'll marry you?"