"And I can't stand it. It makes me feel weak—mentally and physically. It turns me sick. I think I'm wrong, but I can't help it. I believe the thing is stronger than I am. You're the only person in the world, Teresa, that can really make me suffer. And I believe you could half-kill me!"
His anger and resentment of his own irrationality touched Teresa, his emotion pleased her, but the practical consequences thereof rather vexed her.
"I've only done what you told me to do," she said plaintively. "You said you wanted me to have my friends among men, just as you have among women. I didn't make scenes for you—at least not serious ones—when you were so much with Mrs. Perry. And yet I had more reason to, for she was making love to you, and Jack doesn't make love to me—not seriously."
"Seriously! There it is, then—he does make love to you. I knew it. His whole manner to you shows it."
"Oh, he's Southern, you know, and they have that gallant way. My father had it—it's a tradition. He does like me, I'm sure—perhaps he's a little bit épris—but you always said you liked men to be fond of me, so long as"
"Yes, but you like him! You wouldn't want to spend hours alone with him if you didn't."
"Of course I like him, silly old thing! He's charming."
