FREDA
Not a word of it. I was playing.
VANDERLIP
(Grimly.)
Well, I wasn't, that's the difference.
FREDA
Do let go of my arm. You are hurting me.
VANDERLIP
(Ignoring her protest, dragging her roughly by her arm to the front and just to left of table, holding her face to face with him, and beginning to speak faster.)
Look here, Freda, I'm a fool. I know it. I was a fool there in that chair. You put it all over me. You women all make a fool of me. I don't think quick. I'm not used to it, I guess. My tongue is awkward. I can't think of bright things to say, or the right things to say. And I believe what is said to me. And then I like women, too. I can't help it. I was born that way. I just like them, and they take advantage of me—