"Not so fast, Jenny. You went there to see him, you know."
"But, Ernest, I couldn't stand it any longer. I—simply—couldn't—"
He walked deliberately over to the screened fireplace and tossed his cigarette into it.
"Why d'you go to him?"
"You know why I went."
"Why!"
She had felt right along that he must be made to understand it. She could not see why he had not known before.
"Oh, don't pretend any more. I'm sick of it. You know I'm sick of it."
His brows drew together in an angry frown.
"Sick of what? Eh, Jenny?"