"We were talking about you." "Exclusively?" Lennox showed his teeth. "You couldn't find a moment to let me know? It wasn't important enough even for a throw-away?" "Is it important to you?" "It's damned important." "Why?" "I don't know." "You're behaving like a fool." "That I do know." He started off again, plowing through the crowds, hustling Gabby along full speed. Her skirt was narrow, she was wearing high-heeled opera pumps, it was painful for her. Lennox knew it and enjoyed it. He didn't know why he was trying to punish her; but Gabby had an inkling of what chasm might be producing the rage, and she was so transparently honest that she blurted it out. "Dog in the manger," she said. "Is that supposed to have meaning?" "You're not jealous." "I never said I was." "You want revenge." "Revenge for what?" "Because you weren't the first." "What!" He stopped and backed her into the recessed show-window of a lunchroom. "What was that?" "You want revenge," Gabby repeated angrily. "You want to punish me because you weren't the first." "Damn you, Gabby...." "Isn't it true?" "No." "You didn't need me. You needed a conquest." "Shut up." "You thought you owned me. From the beginning. All of me. You're selfish, egotistical, self--" "Why didn't you say your date was with Audibon?" "It was none of your business." "Everything about you is my business. What did Audibon want?" "You moved in on me last night," Gabby said. "And now you'd like to move in on the rest of my life. You want to own everything." "Yes. Everything, damn it! You own all of me." "I don't want it. I don't want ever to own anybody, and I won't be owned. Don't interrupt, Jordan. Listen to me." Gabby was raging. "You think you've staked out a claim, but it isn't like that at all. There'll be days when we discover we need each other and then we'll be together. There'll be other days when nothing will happen. But no claims, no ownership, no possession, no habit. Do you understand?" "Do you think you're lecturing a child?" "You are a child. Selfish. Spoiled. Rude." "You're talking about manners. What the hell does that have to do with love?" "Everything. Do you want to love me or use me?" "Use you? For what?" "Your whipping boy. You were rude to Roy in the restaurant. I don't know why you were fighting but--" "He's knifing my show!" "I don't care. You were rude. You behaved dreadfully. Then you were ashamed and you tried to take it out on me. Is that your kind of love? Hurtful? Hateful?" She began to tremble. "Yes, it is. I'm not going to apologize. I told you last night ... you open me up. I look at you and my guts come out. If part is poison, I can't hide it. And I don't give a damn. I earn my living in a lying rat-race. There has to be honesty between us or what's the use?" "Not this kind. This isn't honesty. It's--"