"Oh, but I am going on." He had lowered his face close to hers, and his hot breath beat upon her cold cheeks. "Now, give me the explanation of what you let slip about going through so much these last two days. What was the precise sense o' that?"
"I only meant I've been so anxious."
"Yes, but yer bin anxious best part o' four weeks. What was the mighty difference in yesterday or day before?"
"I didn't mean any difference. I scarce knew what I was saying—or what I'm saying now."
"Oh! Just a remark let fall without a scrap o' sense in it!"
Staring up at him, it was as if she saw the face of a stranger. His eyes were half closed and glittering fiercely; his lips protruded as if grotesquely pouting to express scorn, and on each side of the distended nostrils a deep vertical wrinkle showed like the blackened gash of a knife wound.
"Will, dear, I meant nothing at all."
"You're lying."
Abruptly he took his hands from her shoulders, got off the bed, and went to the chest of drawers. Her handbag was on the drawers; and when she saw him pick it up she sprang after him, clutching at his hands and imploring.
"You'll find nothing there. Nothing that I can't explain;" and she made a desperate gurgling laugh. "Why, Will, old man, it is you that's drunk, yourself, after chaffing me? No, you shan't. No, Will, you shan't."