“It is! You go down again, I don’t want you. Think I believe that about crying? I’d be ashamed, if I were you!”
Ashamed! He might have been too soft, but why ashamed?
“Think I don’t know what men are like? You can just go to your street girl, if she’s so pretty!” She stood hard and stiff against the door, with red spots in her cheeks. She almost made him feel a villain—such conviction in her body.
“Alice! Good Lord! You must be crazy! I’ve done nothing!”
“But you’d like to. Go along! I don’t want you!”
The stabbing stare of her blue eyes, the muffled energy of her voice, the bitterness about her mouth all made a fellow feel—well, that he knew nothing about anything—coming from one’s wife like that! He leaned back against the wall.
“Well, I’m damned!” was all he could get out.
“D’you mean to say she didn’t ask you?”
The insides of his hands grew wet. The girl’s card in his pocket!