She was going.
He saw her intention; but he was nearer to the door than she was, and by a quick though ponderous movement he got there first. He stood before her with his back to the door. (He had the wild thought of locking it, but chivalry forbade him.)
"You can go in a minute," he said. "But you've got to listen to me first. You've got to be fair to me. I may be mad; but if I didn't care for you—madly—I wouldn't have supposed for an instant that you cared for me. I wouldn't have thought of such a thing."
"But I don't, I tell you."
"And I tell you, you do. Do you suppose after all you've done for me—"
"I haven't done anything."
"Done? Look at the way you've worked for me. I've never known anything like your devotion, Barbara."
"Oh, that! It was only my job."
"Was it your job to save me from that horrible woman?"
"Oh, yes; it was all in the day's work."