"She won't!"
"She'll have to."
"It's hideous—doing it in that way."
"Not as hideous as the kind of life I'm leading."
She made no answer, and he followed her silently up the doorstep while she fumbled for her latchkey. She was trembling now with weariness and disappointment, and a feverish thirst for the one more kiss she was resolved he should not take.
"Other people get their freedom. I don't see why I shouldn't have mine," he insisted.
"Not in that way, Stan! You mustn't. It's too horrible."
"That way? You know there's no other."
She turned the latchkey, and the ponderous vestibule door swung inward. "If you do, don't imagine I'll ever marry you!" she cried out as she crossed the threshold; and he flung back furiously: "Wait till I ask you!" and plunged away into the rain.