“Why do you torture me so, Gage? What devil possesses you?”
He had always had a horror of seeing her weep. He took a step towards her.
“I’m tired—I’m tired,” sobbed Helen.
Gage stiffened. “And why are you tired? Because you’ve been running around Chicago. I didn’t tire you. You tire yourself. Then you come back exhausted and blame me because you are exhausted. If you were more a wife—less a public character—”
She had risen and stood looking at him angrily again, eyes wide with hurt and disappointment.
“You jealous fool—you’re on the point of becoming a degenerate. If even Sable has to watch over your actions—publicly reprove you—”
“He won’t do it again,” said Gage, “not again. I am severing my connection with the upright Sable. He’ll never pry into my business again. I’ll tell you that for certain.”
She stopped considering the personal trouble in sheer amazement.
“You’re not going to break with Sable?”
“I told him yesterday I was through. In fact I told him cordially to go to hell. He can’t play the black mammy to me, you know.”