I shrugged my shoulders.
'You were quite right in what you did. Those things have to finish some time or other, and it really does not so much matter when.'
'I was afraid I had hurt you,' she said in a low voice.
The scene came to my mind; the dimly-lit room, the delicate form lying on the couch, cold and indifferent, while I was given over to an agony of despair. I remembered the glitter of the jewelled ring against the white hand. I would have no mercy.
'My dear Giulia—you will allow me to call you Giulia?'
She nodded.
'My dear Giulia, I was a little unhappy at first, I acknowledge, but one gets over those things so quickly—a bottle of wine, and a good sleep: they are like bleeding to a fever.'
'You were unhappy?'
'Naturally; one is always rather put out when one is dismissed. One would prefer to have done the breaking oneself.'
'It was a matter of pride?'