"What do you mean?" she demanded sharply.
"It might make things easier for you."
"And what do you mean by that?" she asked in that quick sharp way.
"It might make things easier," he said, "just to feel that, even at this late day, you've done the decent thing."
She stood up. "Do you know, young man, that you've said things to me that are outrageous to have said?" She was trembling so it seemed hard to speak. "I've let you go on just because I was stupified by your presumption—staggered, and rather amused at your childish audacity. But you've gone a little too far! How dare you talk to me like this?" she demanded with passion.
He had moved toward the door. He looked at her, then looked away. His control was all broken down now. "I'm sorry to have it end like this," he muttered.
She laughed a little, but she was shaken with the sobs she was plainly making a big effort to hold back. "I'm so sorry," he said with such real feeling that the tears brimmed from her eyes.
He stood there awkwardly. Somehow her house seemed very lonely, comfortless. And now that her composure was broken down, the way she looked made him very sorry for her.
"I don't want you to think," he said gently, "that I don't see how bad it has been for you."
She tried to laugh. "You don't think your sister was very—fair to me, do you?" she asked chokingly, looking at him in a way more appealing than aggressive.