“I guess that's what I meant to do,” she answered fiercely.
“Well, I expect I'd have been able to pull you out. Suppose I ought to say I'm sorry; but I'm not. In fact, Sadie, I don't quite understand—”
“No,” she said, “you don't understand at all! That's the trouble.”
Charnock took out his tobacco pouch and began to make a cigarette. Sadie's cold dignity was something new and he thought she could not keep it up. If she did not break out in passionate anger, she would soon come round. As he finished the cigarette she turned to him with flashing eyes.
“Put that tobacco away or I'll throw it in the lake! Do you think you can kiss me when you like?”
“I wish I could,” said Charnock. “As a matter of fact, I haven't kissed you yet. But I'm sorry if you're vexed.”
For a moment Sadie hesitated and then fixed him with a fierce, scornful gaze.
“Oh,” she said, “you're cheap, and you'd make me as cheap as you! You want things for nothing; they must be given, where other men would work and fight. But you can't amuse yourself by making love to me.”
Charnock felt humiliated. If he had really offended her, she could have rebuked him with a look or sign. Her unnecessary frankness jarred.
“Very well; I must ask you to forget it. Of course, I was wrong, but I'll try not to vex you again. What are we going to do now?”