In his own automobile, surrounded by the atmosphere of things he knew and enjoyed, Massingale felt an easier mood. Besides, her indifference and flashes of temper always exercised a provocative effect. "What a little whirligig you are, Dodo," he said, laughing. "Happy there? You wouldn't last an afternoon! Besides, romance is one thing, but think of the dirt!" "You want to antagonize me; you've done it all evening!" she said, drawing into her corner. He defended himself lamely, aware of the truth. "Never mind!" she added vindictively. "I shall amuse myself to-night." "Sassoon or Harrigan Blood?" he said, pinching her ear. "Perhaps." She refused to be enticed from her offended dignity. When they reached Miss Pim's, contrary to his determination, he descended and went up-stairs with her, seeking, with a quick pity in his heart, to repair the effects of his ill-humor. Then, judging the moment auspicious, he began gravely: "Dodo, where is this going to end?" "What? Which?" she said, frowning and whirling about, as if she had not understood. He repeated the question with even more seriousness. "I want to be genuine!" she said, stamping her foot. "I don't want to be dissecting everything I do before I do it! Whatever comes, I want it to come without calculation!" He groaned aloud. "Hopeless! Crazy! Impossible child!" "It's you who are impossible!" she retorted hotly. "It's you who are neither one thing nor the other! It's you who back and fill! I am honest; you're not! What are you thinking of all the time--your wife?" His sense of decorum was shocked. "Dodo, kindly leave my wife's name out of the conversation!" "And why should I leave it out?" she answered furiously. "She's the one thing that comes between us! I hate her! I despise her! I could kill her!" "Dodo!" "Do you love her? No! Do you care _that_ for her? No! Or she for you? No! Well, then, why shouldn't I discuss her?" When she fell into a passion, he no longer heard what words she said, fascinated by the impetuosity of the emotion that shook her--man-like, longing to have it translated into clinging in his arms. He felt himself beaten in this discussion where no logic was possible, and he said desperately that he would no longer quibble or avoid issues, that he would lay the truth before her, and pronounce ugly names. But, before he could venture, the telephone interrupted. She went to it joyfully, seeking a new means of tantalizing him. He sought to catch some inkling of the man at the other end, but her ingenuity evaded him. Presently she leaned out of the hall, covering the mouthpiece with her hand. "You are sure you have to go to that meeting?" she said, in a dry staccato. "Sure!" Then her voice rose again, answering the telephone. "Yes, indeed--free.... Delighted.... Oh, longing for a spree.... How gorgeous! How soon?" She turned, glancing at Massingale. He took up his hat, answering with asperity: "Immediately!"