"Cared! Great God," he broke in passionately, "I was ready to exile myself, to throw my reputation to the dogs—to ruin my whole life. Cared!"
"You cared!" she said in rapid scorn. "You loved! And now six months later you can come here calmly, brutally, cynically, and say, 'I came because I was curious.' You cared!"
A blind animal fury swept over him. He caught her in his arms, murder and abject yielding wrestling in his soul.
"Dodo!"
She had swept aside all the artifices of the man of the world. The man beneath the veneer, rage or passion led, held her in a clasp that left its wounds upon her tender arms. Yet she did not move or cry out. He looked at her inertly thus, immobile as a statue and suddenly as though perceiving a strange woman, he released her roughly, amazed at himself.
"Good God," he said, striking his forehead, "haven't you done me enough harm already!"
He turned, stirred to a guilty responsibility, trying to bluster into the better reason.
"Why did you bring me here?"
She made no answer.