“No. I wasn’t spiritual enough,” he sneered.
“You were not. And you made me what you were.”
“Oh, I noticed that you were always very spiritual after you’d got what you wanted.”
“What I wanted?” she cried. “Oh, my God—”
“If you ever knew what you wanted.”
“What—I—wanted,” she repeated, drawing out her bitterness.
“Come,” he said, “why not be honest? Face facts. I was awfully gone on you. You were awfully gone on me—once. We got tired of each other and it’s over. But at least you might own we had a good time while it lasted.”
“A good time?”
“Good enough for me.”
“For you, because for you love only means one thing. Everything that’s high and noble in it you dragged down to that, till there’s nothing left for us but that. That’s what you made of love.”