(Recalling)
So that’s why he smiled just now.—Didn’t he say anything?
Mrs. Sabine
He merely put his hands on your furs. I thought he’d believe I’d saved enough to buy them myself. He stroked them once or twice slowly—and smiled. But he said nothing. Then he led me to the window and pointed to your car—the extra one you forced upon us—when you began. He smiled; but he said nothing. He picked up a book: the work in the library was interesting; it kept him safe in the long winter evenings. I tell you he said it all in his smiles and never a word. (Violently) He disappointed me so! I’d be sorry for him a little if he’d only struck me. God! I hate men who only smile when they are angry. (Randolph trying to quiet her.) Oh, I hate him with his penny a year. I hate him for asking me to marry him, and then not even striking me when he found out what I was!
Randolph
But didn’t you even try to deny it?
Mrs. Sabine
(Defiantly)
Why should I deny it?
Randolph