His square jaw still held its rigid position silhouetted in sharp profile against the candle's light. He answered slowly and mechanically.
“What?”
His indifference was more than the sore heart could bear. The pent-up tears of the afternoon dashed in flood against the barriers of her will.
“You—haven't—kissed—me—today,” she stammered, struggling with each word to save a break.
Still he stood immovable. This time his answer was tinged with the slightest suggestion of amusement.
“No?”
She staggered against the table beside the door and gripped its edge desperately.
“Oh—” she gasped. “Don't you love me any more?”
With his sullen head still holding its position of indifference, his absorption in the idea which dominated his mind still unbroken, he threw out one hand in a gesture of irritation.
“Cut it, Kid! Cut it!”