The swift gesture with which she flung over the carriage of her machine might have warned him.
“I don't like that Hampton Hotel,” she flashed back. “I'm—I'm not a vagabond—yet.”
“A vagabond!” he repeated.
She went on savagely with her work..
“You have two natures,” he exclaimed. “You are still a bourgeoise, a Puritan. You will not be yourself, you will not be free until you get over that.”
“I'm not sure I want to get over it.”
He leaned nearer to her.
“But now that I have found you, Janet, I will not let you go.”
“You've no rights over me,” she cried, in sudden alarm and anger. “I'm not doing this work, I'm not wearing myself out here for you.”
“Then—why are you doing it?” His suspicions rose again, and made him reckless.