Her bare arm stole about his neck; the touch of it kindled his blood like flame.
“You are tired of it?” he asked in a low voice.
“Yes,” she answered softly.
“You’ve been cheated; you paid a big price for the happiness you didn’t get.”
“He doesn’t care the least bit. I don’t interest him. You might think he would talk to me when he was in trouble, but he keeps as far away as he can. But—I’m really not so bad—am I, Wayne? I’m not ugly, or stupid, or so very foolish?”
He pressed her hand for answer.
“Don’t you think I’m as nice as Jean? She’s big and strong and handsome—and she’s interesting—I can see how she appeals to you; but there’s so much she doesn’t know. Don’t you believe I know more than she does?”
His hand relaxed; she was aware that he drew away from her. He rose, almost flinging her away.
“For God’s sake, Addie, don’t talk to me of her; don’t speak of her.”
“Oh!” It was the exclamation of a rebuked child. “Of course I didn’t understand,” she pouted. “You seemed lonely and I was trying to be good to you. Of course, then, she is wiser than I am. If I’d known how it stood with you I shouldn’t have spoken of her at all.”