He smiled, a thin-lipped smile. "Yes. It had to be. I've put up with him long enough. I told him so last night."
"You—quarrelled?" said Juliet.
"No. We didn't quarrel. I gave him his marching orders, that's all."
"But wasn't he very angry?"
"Oh, pshaw!" said Dick. "What of it?"
She was looking at him intently, for there was something merciless about his smile. "Do you always do that, I wonder," she said, "with the people who make you angry?"
"Do what?" he said.
"Kick them out." Her voice held a doubtful note.
He turned his hand upwards and clasped hers. "My darling, it was a perfectly just sentence. He deserved it. Also—though I admit I have only thought of this since—it's the best thing that could happen to him. He can make his own way in life. It's high time he did so. I didn't kick him out because I was angry with him either."
"But you were angry," she said. "You were nearly white-hot."