She clung to his hand. "You don't hate me because I'm like this, do you, Laurie?"
"Don't be foolish, Winnie, child. You're worn out or you wouldn't talk this way." He put her gently from him. "I'm going to call Mother."
She began to sob. "You want to go! I don't want you to touch me if you hate me!"
Smiling wearily, he looked at her. It was a kind of relief to him to be unable to defend himself. "Since I make you cry, I think I'd better go, Winnie."
"Oh," she sobbed, "you make me cry by not wanting me! You hurt me so. You're so cruel!"
Still he stood helpless, not touching her. "For your own sake, you must stop, Winnie."
"If—if you call Mamma Farley in here now I'll—I'll kill myself!"
"No, you won't, Winnie." His voice shook. "But if you don't want me to call her, I won't."
Winnie became a little calmer. Then she said, more soberly, "You neglect and despise me."
"I don't, Winnie."