He sat down. She saw with terror his hostility to the thing she was about to do.
"Talking's no good," she said. "It's got to be done."
"I don't see the necessity."
"It's not one of those things that can be seen."
"No. But look here——" He was very gentle and forbearing. "Need you do it quite so soon?"
"So soon? If I don't do it now, when shall I do it?"
He did not answer her. He sat looking at her hands in their nervous, restless play.
Her grave eyes, under their flattening brows, gazed thoughtfully at him. The corners of her mouth lifted a little with their wing-like, quivering motion. Two moods were in her; one had its home in her brooding, tragic eyes, one in her mysterious, mocking lips.
"It's no use, dear," she said. "You'll never turn me into that sort of woman."
"What sort of woman?"