"Thank you!" said Letty, calmly, leaning against the little writing-table, and beating the ground slightly with her foot. "I don't want them. And I don't know why you should trouble yourself about it."
But for the first time, and against its owner's will, the hard tone wavered.
Marcella rose impetuously again, and came towards her.
"When one thinks of all the long years of married life," she said, still trembling, "of the children that may come—"
Letty lifted her eyebrows.
"If one happened to wish for them. But I don't happen to wish for them, never did. I daresay it sounds horrid. Anyway, one needn't take that into consideration."
"And your husband? Your husband, who must be miserable, whose great gifts will be all spoiled unless you will somehow give up your anger and make peace. And instead of that, you are only thinking of revenging yourself, of making more ruin and pain. It breaks one's heart! And it would need such a little effort on your part, only a few words written or spoken, to bring him back, to end all this unhappiness!"
"Oh! George can take care of himself," said Letty, provokingly; "so can
I. Besides, you have sent him away."
Marcella looked at her in despair. Then silently she turned away, and Letty saw that she was searching for some gloves and a handkerchief she had been carrying in her hand when she came in.
Letty watched her take them up, then said suddenly, "Are you going away?"