“What’s the big idea, following me around, anyhow? You think I haven’t anything else to do but listen to you? Say, I told you in the first place I couldn’t marry, didn’t I? And now because you think there’s something wrong with you, you want to make me responsible. Well, I’m not the only fellow in this neighborhood. And everybody knows that.” He paused there, because as he saw this last declaration had awakened in her a latent strength and determination never previously shown in any way. The horror of that to her, as he could see. The whiteness of her face afterwards and on the instant. The blazing electric points within the pupils of her eyes. “That’s a lie, and you know it! It’s not true! Oh, how terrible! And for you to say that to me! I see it all now. You’re just a sneak and a coward. You were just fooling with me all the time, then! You never intended to marry me, and now because you’re afraid you think you can get out of it that way—by trying to blame it on some one else. You coward! Oh, aren’t you the small one, though! And after all the things you said to me—the promises! As though I even thought of any one else in my life! You dare to say that to me, when you know so well!” Her face was still lily white. And her hands. Her eyes flashed with transcendent and yet helpless and defeated misery. And yet, despite her rage—in the center of this very misery—love itself—strong, vital, burning love—the very core of it. But so tortured that already it was beginning to drive the tears to her eyes. And he knowing so thoroughly that this love was still there, now instantly seizing on these latest truthful words of hers as an insult—something on which to base an assumed grievance. “Is that so? A coward, eh? Well, let’s see what you draw down for that, you little dumb-bell.” And so turning on his heel—the strongest instinct in him—his own social salvation in this immediate petty neighborhood at the present time uppermost in his mind. And without a look behind.