"Whether this is to last for the rest of our lives."
"What?"
"This peaceful existence," she said scornfully. "I should really like to know whether it is to last. Could you not tell me?"
"It will not last long, if you make it your principal business to torment me," he said, stopping in his walk.
"I?" she exclaimed, with an air of the utmost surprise. "When do I ever torment you?"
"Whenever I am with you, and you know it."
"Really! You must be ill, or out of your mind, or both. That would be some excuse for saying such a thing."
"It needs none. It is true." He was becoming exasperated at last. "You seem to spend your time in finding out how to make life intolerable. You are driving me mad. I cannot bear it much longer."
"If it comes to bearing, I think I have borne more than you," said Gloria. "It is not little. You leave me to myself. You neglect me. You abuse the friends I am obliged to find rather than be alone. You neglect me in every way—and you say that I am driving you mad. Do you realize at all how you have changed in this last year? You may have really gone mad, for all I know, but it is I who have to suffer and bear the consequences. You neglect me brutally. How do I know how you pass your time?"
Reanda stood still in the middle of the room, gazing at her. For a moment he was surprised by the outbreak. She did not give him time to answer.