"I never said you had."
"You thought it."
"You know I didn't. How could I think it?"
"You did. That's why you wouldn't let him come. You won't trust me with him."
"Trust you with him? I should think I would trust you. Him! The flabby swine!"
Violet's sobs sank lower. They shook her inwardly, which was terrible to see.
And as he looked at her he remembered yet again how in the beginning he had wronged her. That was what made her think he wouldn't trust her. There would always be that wrong between them.
He drew her (unresisting now) to the other side of the room and lowered her to the couch that stood there. He looked into the teapot, where the drained leaves were still warm. He filled it up again with boiling water from the kettle on the gas ring, and poured out a cup and gave it her to drink, supporting her stooping head tenderly with his hand. Her forehead burned to his touch.
"Poor little Vi," he said. "Poor little Vi."
She glanced at him; slantwise, yet the look made his heart ache.