She regarded him coldly.
"You talk as if I were a child."
"I have to," he said with sudden irritation.
"Well, at least I'm not a piece of bric-à-brac that you can just put somewhere and forget."
He knelt down by her quickly, and took her arms in his hands.
"Gretchen, listen!" he said breathlessly. "For God's sake, don't go to pieces now! We're both all stored up with malice and reproach, and if we had a quarrel it'd be terrible. I love you, Gretchen. Say you love me—quick!"
"You know I love you."
The quarrel was averted, but there was an unnatural tenseness all through dinner. It came to a climax afterward when he began to spread his working materials on the table.
"Oh, Roger," she protested, "I thought you didn't have to work to-night."
"I didn't think I'd have to, but something came up."