He swung about to face her. “But, Esther,” he cried, “you know they are true.”
“I know you ought to be ashamed of yourself for saying them, for calling him a hypocrite and all the rest.”
“Well, what else is he? Making believe to you that—”
“Stop! Will you go now, please?”
“Of course I shan’t! I have only just come. Esther, dear, I am sorry if I said more than I should. I am mad clear through. Oh, we must not quarrel because—because he—”
“Will you stop talking about him? And will you go this minute?”
He jammed his hands into his pockets. His face was flushed and hers white, but the fire in his eyes was dying. He tried to take her hand, but she drew it away.
“Do you really want me to go—now?” he asked, incredulously. “You can’t mean it, dear.”
“I do mean it. I think it is very much better that you should. You have said enough to-night, more than enough. I don’t want to hear more and I don’t feel like talking, myself. Please go.”
He hesitated, then he surrendered.