“And none to you.”
She laughed savagely. “That lie won’t do.”
“Bertha, Bertha, we may hate one another if you will. But is it not as well to try whether we can agree upon anything. Let us just for the present talk intelligibly.”
“You tried to murder me, you arch-villain.”
“Nonsense,” said he, turning pale, “how can you talk so—how can you? Could I help interposing? You may well be thankful that I did.”
“You tried to murder me,” she screamed.
“You know that’s false. I took the knife from your hand, and by doing so I saved two lives. It was you—not I—who hurt your hand.”
“You villain, you damned villain, I wish I could kill you dead.”
“All the worse for you, Bertha.”
“I wish you were dead and cold in your bed, and my hand on your face to be sure of it.”