It wasn't much--150 pounds--and
Howard drew it out two days ago."
"Does that astonish you?" Robert asked.
She seemed not to hear the scorn and irony of the question. She went on
packing deliberately, and he watched her, not knowing what he would say
or do. The tide was rising faster. His dread would carry him off his
feet.
"No. I was sure things were coming to a crisis."
"He was no good. Anyone could see that."
"I didn't see it."
"Well, you see it now," he flung at her with a hard triumph.
"I don't."
"A mean thief----"
"Not mean, Robert."
"I don't know anything meaner than stealing money from a lot of hard-up
students."
"There was Gertie," she said as though that were some sort of extenuation.
"Gertie--they've gone off on some rotten spree--not even married."
(He hated himself--the beastly righteousness of his voice, his
contemptible exultation. It was as though he were under some horrid
spell which twisted his love and anguish into the expressions of a
spiteful prig. Why couldn't he tell her of those deadly, shapeless
fears, of his loneliness, his sorrowful jealousies? He was shut up in
the iron fastness of his own will--gagged and helpless.)
He saw her start. She stopped definitely in her work as though she were
at last aware of some struggle between them. The room was growing dark,
and she came a little nearer, trying to see his face.
"I don't suppose so. I don't think it would occur to them.
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