"I mean—I mean—I can't bear it!" she cried, gasping for breath under the oppression of his nearness.
He realised her repugnance, and removed himself.
"Do you mean," he said, "because of her?"
"Yes," she said, "because of her."
He laughed softly. "Dear child—she doesn't exist. She doesn't exist." He swept her out of existence with a gesture of his hand. "Not for me at any rate."
The emphasis was lost upon her. "It's all nonsense to talk in that way. If she doesn't exist for you, you shouldn't have gone near her, you shouldn't have sat talking—to her."
"What do you suppose we were talking about?"
"I don't know. I don't want to know. I saw and heard enough."
"Look here, Anne. You wanted me to be rude to her, didn't you? I was rude. I was brutal. She had to remind me that she was a woman. By heaven, I'd forgotten it. If you're always to be going back on that—"
"I'm not going back. She has come back."