He wisely ignored part of the charge. “Look at her and look at yourself. Do you think I could prefer her to you?”
“I think you’re fool enough.”
The words slipped out of Bertha’s mouth almost before she knew she had said them, and the bitter, scornful tone added to their violence. They frightened her, and turning very white, she glanced at her husband.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to say that, Eddie.”
Fearing now that she had really wounded him, Bertha was entirely sorry; she would have given anything for the words to be unsaid. Edward was turning over the pages of a book, looking at it listlessly. She went up to him.
“I haven’t offended you, have I, Eddie? I didn’t mean to say that.”
She put her arm in his; he did not answer.
“Don’t be angry with me,” she faltered again, and then breaking down, buried her face in his bosom. “I didn’t mean what I said—I lost command over myself. You don’t know how you humiliated me the other day. I haven’t been able to sleep at night, thinking of it.... Kiss me.”
He turned his face away, but she would not let him go; at last she found his lips.
“Say you’re not angry with me.”