David lit a cigarette, without replying. All this time his pulses were impatient for the sound of the girl's name.
Ownie's humility deserted her; her temper flamed, though there were still tears in her voice.
"'Sacrifice'?" she retorted. "It's a fine sacrifice, to keep your comfort! The sacrifice'll come in if you throw yourself away for the first pretty face you meet. I thought you had more sense—you talk like a sentimental boy. 'Sacrifice yourself'? In a year's time you'd have forgotten you ever wanted her, and she'd be engaged to somebody else! Any young man can get spoony on any girl if he sees enough of her. Why don't you pick up a girl of a different sort? You must have plenty of opportunities. If you want to play the fool, choose a girl who doesn't aim at getting married!"
Vivian rose with fury in his veins. He made a desperate effort to disguise it, to answer her with dignity.
"I must decline to discuss the matter. If you can compare the love of my life with—with that kind of thing, there's no more to be said."
"Oh!" she exclaimed, exasperated, "what an idiot you are! Marry her then, and drag uphill with a wife and a family on your back, and see how you like it. Make haste before the bargain has gone; I daresay she'll jump at any man who asks her."
"Ah, it isn't every woman who'll jump at any man who asks her," he said savagely. "You're not a fair judge on that point, you know!"
The blood swept up to her forehead, and then she blanched, and the rouge stains looked grotesque. She trembled as if the blow had been struck with his fists. Her dyed head went down in her hands, and she began to sob—unrestrainedly, hysterically, in an abandonment of wretchedness.
He watched her, discomfited. His anger dwindled in view of her defeat, and already he repented his taunt. He decided, ashamed, to pretend that he did not understand what she was crying about.
David went over to her, murmuring encouragement.