"Why do you ask such a thing as that?" she returned, in the same hard frost. "You know where the idea of the character came from, and why it was sacred to me. Or perhaps you forget!"
"No, I don't forget. But try—can't you try?—to specify just why you object to Mrs. Harley?"
"You have your theory. You said I was jealous of her."
"I didn't mean it. I never believed that."
"Then I can't explain. If you don't understand, after all that's been said, what is the use of talking? I'm tired of it!"
She went into her room, and he sank into the chair before his desk and sat there, thinking. When she came back, after a while, he did not look round at her, and she spoke to the back of his head. "Should you have any objection to my going home for a few days?"
"No," he returned.
"I know papa would like to have me, and I think you would be less hampered in what you will have to do now if I'm not here."
"You're very considerate. But if that's what you are going for, you might as well stay. I'm not going to do anything whatever."
"Now, you mustn't talk foolishly, Brice," she said, with an air of superior virtue mixed with a hint of martyrdom. "I won't have you doing anything rash or boyish. You will go on and let them have your play just the same as if I didn't exist." She somewhat marred the effect of her self-devotion by adding: "And I shall go on just as if it didn't exist." He said nothing, and she continued: "You couldn't expect me to take any interest in it after this, could you? Because, though I am ready to make any sort of sacrifice for you, I think any one, I don't care who it was, would say that was a little too much. Don't you think so yourself?"