She entered. He followed, giving the address to the driver. She sat looking neither to left nor right, staring stubbornly in front of her. The sunshine and the scent of summer gardens far away failed to bring their message. Though it was high summer, she wore the heavy coat which she had worn in the wintry weather at the time of her trial.
“I am very glad indeed to see you, Louisa,” said John. “'Unfeignedly thankful!'” She chewed the literary phrase and spat it out venomously. “You—liar!”
John winced at the abominable word; but he spoke softly.
“You can't suppose it has been happiness for me to think of you in there.”
“What does it matter to me? What the hell are you to me, anyhow?”
“I 'm your husband in the eyes of the law,” said John, “and I once cared for you.”
“Oh, stow that!”
“I will. But I want you to believe that I am utterly thankful that this—this unhappy chapter is closed—”
She interrupted him with a swift and vicious glance.
“'Unhappy chapter!' Get off it! You make me sick. Talk English, if you must talk.”