"I'm not going home. I couldn't sit alone in the dark with that ... that thing before my eyes."
"Who asked you to sit alone?—Where are you going?"
"I don't know ... where I like."
"That's no answer."
"And if I don't choose to answer?—I don't want you. I want to be alone. I'm sick of your perpetual bad-temper, and your eternal self-righteousness."
He laughed, just as she had done. The sound enraged her.
"Oh, the dead at least are at peace!" she cried.
"Yes! ... why don't you say it? You wish you were lying there—at peace from me!"
"Why should I say what you know so well?"
"Go and do it then!—who's hindering you?"