She faltered and trembled in asking him what he meant.
He burst out with a scornful laugh.
"I was drunk last night," he said, "you know that as well as I do, and here I am ready to take my medicine--can't avoid it, I know that--and want to get it over with. You wouldn't be a woman if you didn't pay me out."
The vulgarity of the conception stung her.
"I--I don't pay people out," she said simply.
"Oh, no, you're the quiet kind," he went on with an ugly jeer, intent somehow on putting her in the wrong. "You don't say anything, but you sit there and freeze a fellow--and oh, my God, yes, cry! There you go, cry, cry, cry!"
She did break down for a moment under his deliberate cruelty, but quickly rallying, came over, and sat beside him on the bed.
"Don't, don't quarrel with me," she said pitifully, and then added with a gleam of humor, "after all, it wasn't I that was drunk, you know."
She put out her hand, and for a while he permitted it to lie against his aching forehead. All would have been well had he not unfortunately spilled his cup. At this his latent fury broke out anew.
"For God's sake, don't crowd all over me!" he cried. "Sit over there, where we can talk like sensible people. You have made me all wet with the damned stuff."