Taking the cup from her hands, Abel went up the little staircase to the bedroom, where Judy stood before the bureau, with a long black-headed hat pin in her hand. She had evidently not begun to undress, for her hat was still on her head, and under the heavy shadow of the brim her eyes looked back at her husband with an accusing and hostile expression.
"Drink this, Judy, while it is hot," he said kindly, placing the cup on the bureau.
"I don't want it," she answered, and her voice sounded as if she were ready to burst again into tears.
"Are you sick?"
"No."
"I'm going to sleep in the attic. Call me if you want anything."
Without replying she took off her hat and placed it on the top shelf in the wardrobe. Had he beaten her she felt that she could almost have loved him, but the primitive sex instinct in her was outraged by his gentleness.
"Has anybody hurt your feelings?" asked Abel, turning suddenly on his way to the door.
"No."
"Then, for God's sake, what is it?" he demanded, at his wit's end. "You look as if you'd lost the last friend you had on earth."