"For goodness' sake, let those things alone, can't you?" he said after he had borne her fidgeting for some time.
"You have no secrets from me, I suppose?" She said it with her tenderest smile, but he scowled so darkly in reply that she went over to him again, to touch him with her hand. Standing behind him, with her fingers in his hair, she said: "Just to-day I wanted you so much. This morning I was so depressed that I could have killed myself."
He turned his head, to give her a significant glance.
"Good reason for the blues, Lulu. I warned you. You want too much of everything. And can't expect to escape a KATER."
"Too much?" she echoed, quick to resent his words. "Does it seem so to you? Would days and days of happiness be too much after we have been separated for a week?—after Wednesday night?—after what you said to me yesterday?"
"Yesterday I was in the devil of a temper. Why rake up old scores? Now go home. Or at least keep quiet, and let me get something done."
He shook his head free of her caressing hand, and, worse still, scratched the place where it had lain. She stood irresolute, not venturing to touch him again, looking hungrily at him. Her eyes fell on the piece of neck, smooth, lightly browned, that showed between his hair and the low collar; and, in an uncontrollable rush of feeling, she stooped and kissed it. As he accepted the caress, without demur, she said: "I thought of going to the theatre to-night, dear."
He was pleased and showed it. "That's right—it's just what you need to cheer you up."
"But I want you to come, too."
He struck the table with his fist. "Good God, can't you get it into your head that I want to work?"