"Don't you think the family will be happier if I am not there to spoil the rapport of departure?" Smiling, he stared at her with his hard, pained eyes. She had the feeling that he was a long way off. She felt sorry for herself.
"Oh, Laurie, please have some pity for me! Don't be nasty tonight."
"It's pity for you that keeps me here, my dear girl."
She could not speak. Death. I may be pregnant. A sharp, small fear bit her breast with its teeth. Because she was hurt inside she despised his ignorance. She wanted to poison his calm with her fear, but the triumph of injury was sweet to her. She held it close.
"You'll be glad now." She was trembling.
"Glad of what, dear girl?"
"That I'm gone."
"Winnie, please? Not tonight." He gazed straight at her. His smiling patience was too bitter. Her pride could not forgive him. Tears of shame and hate rose to her eyes.
"You don't love me any more. I know that."
He would not look at her. Turning over the leaves of the book, his small hand shook. Its whiteness and delicacy irritated her.