He flushed angrily.
"Reelly, Joanna—what do you mean? I've given you as good a time as I knew how."
"Most likely. But all the while you were giving me that good time you were showing me how little you cared for me. Oh, it isn't as if I hadn't been in love before and seen how good a man can be.... I don't want to say hard things to you, my dear, but there's been times when you've hurt me as no man could hurt a woman he really loved. And I've lived in your home and seen how you treat your poor mother and your sister—and I tell you the truth, though it hurts me—you ain't man enough for me."
"Well, if that's how you feel about me, we had certainly better not go on."
"Don't be angry with me, dear. Reckon it was all a mistake from the start—I'm too old for you."
"Then it's a pity we went as far as this. What'll mother and Agatha think when they hear you've turned me down? They're cats enough to imagine all sorts of things. Why do you dash off like this as if I was the plague? If you must break off our engagement, you must, though I don't want you to—I love you, even though you don't love me—but you might at least do it decently. Think of what they'll say when they come down and find you've bolted."
"I'm sorry, Bertie. But I couldn't bear to stick on here another hour. You may tell them any story about me you like. But I can't stay. I must think of myself a bit, since I've no one else to do it for me."
His face was like a sulky child's. He looked at the floor, and kicked the wainscot.
"Well, I think you're treating me very badly, Joanna. Hang it all, I love you—and I think you're a damn fine woman—I reelly do—and I don't care if you are a bit older—I don't like girls."
"You won't think me fine in another ten years—and as for loving me, don't talk nonsense; you don't love me, or I shouldn't be going. Now let me go."