and a humbug, I know that you’re utterly contemptible. And the tragic part is”—her face was on a sudden distraught with pain—“the tragic part is that notwithstanding I love you with all my heart.”
“Kitty.”
She gave a bitter laugh. He had spoken her name in that melting, rich tone of his which came to him so naturally and meant so little.
“You fool,” she said.
He drew back quickly, flushing and offended; he could not make her out. She gave him a look in which there was a glint of amusement.
“You’re beginning to dislike me, aren’t you? Well, dislike me. It doesn’t make any difference to me now.”
She began to put on her gloves.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“Oh, don’t be afraid, you’ll come to no harm. You’ll be quite safe.”
“For God’s sake, don’t talk like that, Kitty,” he answered and his deep voice rang with anxiety.
“You must know that everything that concerns you concerns me. I shall be frightfully anxious to know what happens. What are you going to say to your husband?”
“I’m going to tell him that I’m prepared to go to Mei-tan-fu with him.”
“Perhaps when you consent he won’t insist.”
He could not have known why, when he said this, she looked at him so strangely.
“You’re not really frightened?” he asked her.
