"No, thank you."
He put down the cup, turned, and went toward the door. There was a savage misery in his heart and in all his movements an awful gentleness.
She started up.
"Don't go, Ranny. Don't leave me."
Her voice was dreadful to his instinct.
"I must."
"You're going to do something. What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to leave you to change into those things. I'm going to look for a cab, and I'm going to take you back to wherever you came from."
"You don't know where I came from. You don't know why I've come."
There was the throb of all disaster in her voice. His instinct heard it. But his intelligence refused to hear. It went on reasoning with her who was unreasonable.