She began to lay supper. "I'm hungry," she said. "I've not felt like eating while you've been away. Where you been?" "Away," he answered. "Out of London." "To your home?" "No." "I thought you'd have gone to your home." "There's nothing to take me there. I've been with friends." "Women?" "Yes." She had nothing to say to that. He went on: "One of them I knew years ago, when I was a boy." "That's not so long ago. A lady?" "Yes." "A lady wouldn't take up with you now." "She works for her living." "The same as me?" "The same as you." "Well. What of it?" "We went down into the country, she and I and her friend." "I don't want to know about that." "But I want to tell you." She stood by the table and her fingers drew patterns on the cloth. "What is it you want to tell me?" "I'm in love with her." Ann's lips set in a hard line, and her eyes narrowed and her brows scowled. "Did you come back to tell me that?" "Yes." "Why? Did you think I'd want to know?" "I'm so sorry." "Sorry, you devil? You came down to torment me. You'd better go, d'ye hear." René could not move. He was fascinated by the suffering in the little creature, melted and weakened by his pity for her. "You'd better go," she repeated. "And tell her you left a poor girl hating you, and see how she'll like that. Sorry! That's what you say when you step on a fellow's foot in a bus. Sorry! When you got a girl body and soul, and you throw her away like dirt." "I came back." "Yes. To tell me that. To tell me I was dirt, to throw me down for her to walk on so's she shan't get her feet wet." She changed her tone and asked quietly: "You knew her before me?" "Long years before." "Before that other one as you married?" "Before that." "And she's pretty and has pretty things?" "I've told her about you." "Oh! and she sent you back! Thank you for nothing." "She did not. I came of my own accord. I couldn't leave you like that." "I'd rather you did. I'd rather you did. My Christ! I can't bear to see you sitting there and talking and talking----" He rose to his feet: "I can't leave you, Ann. I couldn't leave you like you are. . . ." She leaned across the table and put out her hand. "Look here, Renny. D'you love me?" "Yes." "Heh!" She gave a snarl of incredulity. "Heh! See here! D'you want me!" Her eyes were staring at him cunningly, invitingly. He saw that she half believed his weakness would lead him to evasion or consent to her will. He waited, and made her repeat her question. "D'you want me?" "I want your happiness," he said. "I don't believe you will find it in me."