"Perhaps I did wrong. I think perhaps I've done wrong in many ways during these last years. I am seeing many things for the first time. The truth is I have been so absorbed in my work that I've thought of nothing else. I took it too much for granted that you were happy because I was happy. And now I want to make it right. I do indeed, Amy. Tell me what's the matter."
She said nothing. He waited for a long time. Her immobility always angered him. He said at last more impatiently.
"Please tell me, Amy, what you have against me."
"I have nothing against you."
"Then why are things wrong between us?"
"Are things wrong?"
"You know they are--ever since that morning when you wouldn't come to Holy Communion."
"I was tired that morning."
"It is more than tiredness," he said, with sudden impatience, beating upon the counterpane with his fist. "Amy--you're not behaving fairly. You must talk to me. I insist on it."
She turned once more towards him.