She was alarmed and angry too now. She tried to subdue him by her tone.
"Have you gone out of your mind?" she said, as steadily as she could speak. "I think you forget who it is you're talking to."
"I'm talking to you," he gasped; "I'm talking to my wife; don't you forget it either! You flirted with him, you know you did. You sat there flirting with him—and in front of your husband; you sat flirting with a skunk you'd never seen before, in front of your husband." He came to a standstill, gesticulating excitedly. "You weren't so ready with me, were you? I suppose any man may make love to you if he's white, eh? But take care—you don't know me yet. By God——"
"Hush," she said, "for Heaven's sake; the people are staring at you."
She signalled nervously to a cabman, and gave him the name of the hotel. In the cab Lee's reproaches were so furious that she drew up the windows to muffle his voice from the passers-by. The distance between the café and the hotel was short, and in less than five minutes the courtyard was reached. She sprang out, and hurried to the bedroom while he paid the fare. When he tried the door he found that she had locked it. He called to her, but she made no answer. Then he beat at the panels, and to avoid a scandal she turned the key.
"Is this going on all night?" she demanded, running to the bell-pull. "If you try to hit me, I'll ring for the manager." Her dread of receiving a blow was of the slightest—such fear of personal violence as she had known had faded during the drive—but it was the cruellest thing that she could invent to say on the spur of the moment. She clung to the bell-pull, a picture of agitation.
The threat, the idea that she thought him capable of striking her, sobered him. He entered shamefacedly.
"You needn't be afraid that I shall hurt you," he muttered.
"Needn't I?" she said. "How do I know that? I don't know what you might do, you bully, you—you coward!"
He winced, and stood looking at the ground in silence. Then: