It would have taken an observer less self-absorbed to note that her hand trembled as it grasped a chair-back, that her breath came quickly. In silence they measured each other. In silence she waited, her eyes never leaving him.
At last he spoke and his voice was as hard as that of a judge pronouncing extreme penalty.
“Well—have you anything to say for yourself?”
She shook her head and not defiance but sadness was in the look she sent him. “Nothing I want to say.”
“You realize, of course, that I’m going to put a stop to this business here and now.”
Again that look—half regret, half sorrow.
“You can no longer put a stop to anything I do.”
In his unreasoning wrath the actual import of her words missed him.
“I don’t care what contracts you’ve made—to-night finishes them.”
“Suppose we try to talk this over quietly”—she gave a slight gesture of weariness as she sat down before her dressing-table—“if it must be discussed.”