“Dion!” she repeated, putting her hand on his shoulder.
He turned round. His pale face was distorted. She scarcely recognized him.
“Dion, let us look things in the face.”
“Oh, God—that is what I’m doing,” he said.
His lips twisted, his face was convulsed. She looked at him in silence, wondering what was going to happen. For a moment she was almost physically afraid. Something in him to-night struck hard upon her imagination and she felt as if it were trembling.
“Come and sit down,” he said, at last.
And she saw that for the moment he had succeeded in regaining self-control.
“Very well.”
She went to sit down; he sat opposite her.
“You hate me, don’t you?” he said.