His voice hardened, for fear it might be soft.
“Is this a professional visit, or a Christmas call, Elizabeth? Or perhaps I shouldn't call you that.”
“A Christmas call?”
“You know what I mean. The day of peace. The day—what do you think I'm made of, Elizabeth? To have you here, gentle and good and kind—”
He got up and stood over her, tall and almost threatening.
“You've been to church, and you've been thinking things over, I know. I was there. I heard it all, peace on earth, goodwill to men. Bosh. Peace, when there is no peace. Good will! I don't want your peace and good will.”
She looked up at him timidly.
“You don't want to be friends, then?”
“No. A thousand times, no,” he said violently. Then, more gently: “I'm making a fool of myself. I want your peace and good will, Elizabeth. God knows I need them.”
“You frighten me, Dick,” she said, slowly. “I didn't come to bring forgiveness, if that is what you mean. I came—”