Deeply moved, she went over to his side, and looked at him with a pang of remorse. He edged away from her with a passionate sense of injury.
"Remember," he warned her, "if you leave me, that will end everything. Society may ostracize you, or toss you back into the gutter. Don't ask me to lift a finger."
The friendly words froze on her lips. She quietly resumed packing.
He sprang up, beside himself, his whole person vibrating with his fury.
"If you're going, you needn't wait until tomorrow!" he said, drawing in his breath. "You can go now, for all I care."
He walked to the window, his teeth clenched and his body set.
While she hastily assembled the rest of her most necessary things, he was saying to himself:
"This damned idea of independence! She thinks she can frighten me. She thinks I won't let her go. I'll call the bluff, and she'll come back flying."
All this on a horrible quicksand of doubt.
But she saw only his hostile back and heard only the echo of his savage tones.