“Listen to me. I’m not afraid of you any more. I’ve been afraid for two years. Now, I’m not. Your study is masterly. I know it. You know it. You didn’t know I knew it; you didn’t know I knew anything. And you didn’t care.”
She sat down on the sofa, facing him with a breathless smile.
“You don’t care what I think, what I am, what interests I may have, what intellect, what of human desire, hope, fear, ambition animates me; do you? You don’t care whether I am ignorant or educated, bad or good, ill or well—as long as it does not affect my posing for you; whether I am happy or unhappy, whether I—”
“For Heaven’s sake—”
“But you don’t care!... Do you?”
He was silent; he stood looking at her in a stupid sort of way.
After a moment or two she rose, picked up her hat, went to the glass and pinned it on, then strolled slowly back, drawing on her gloves.
“It’s five o’clock, you know, Drene.”
“Yes, certainly.”
“Do you want me to-morrow?”