"I can't see the advantage of talking!" Julia answered in faint impatience.
"No, because you want it your own way," said Jim. "You expect me to give up my child completely, you refuse me even a hearing, you won't discuss it!"
"But what do you want to discuss?" protested Julia. "The whole situation is perfectly clear—we shall only quarrel!"
How well she knew the look he gave her, the hurt look of one whose sentiment is dashed by cool reason! He suddenly caught her by the shoulders.
"Look here, Julia!"
"Ah, Jim, please don't!" She twisted in a vain attempt to escape his grip.
"Please don't what?"
"Don't—touch me!"
Jim dropped his hands at once, stepped back, with a look of one mortally hurt.
"Certainly not—I beg your pardon!" he said punctiliously. He took up his hat. "When do I see you again, Julia? Will you dine with me to-morrow? Then we can talk."