"You’re fulfilling your natural destiny—at my expense."
"Oh!" she cried. "I wish to God I could throw the money back in your face, Vincent!"
"But you won’t. And now that you’ve got all that you can out of me, I suppose I can go?"
But Angelica was weak; she couldn’t endure it.
"Do you mean that you’re not even sorry?" she cried. "Can’t you think what this means to me—what’s going to become of me? Oh, Vincent, just think what’s before me!"
"Just what always was before you. You’re bad, my girl, through and through. You couldn’t have ended any other way. No decency, no self-restraint. I don’t suppose I was the first man——”
"Oh, don’t!" she cried. "Don’t! You can’t realize—oh, Vincent!"
"And as for this, it isn’t the first time such a thing has happened in the world. Even a young girl brought up in sheltered luxury, like you, must have heard of such things. In fact, my dear, you must have known quite as well as I what the consequences of our adventure might be. If you say you didn’t, you’re lying."
She put out one hand in a sort of mute and feeble protest.
"But I didn’t think—you’d change——” Her voice faltered; she found it almost impossible to go on. "I thought—that you—felt like I did."