im--to condemn her in his mind as a trickster and a sharper,
someone who was using unfair means to hold him. He almost jumped away
from her in disgust, and she realized that she had struck an awful blow
which apparently, to him, had some elements of unfairness in it.

"Won't you have the decency after this to send her away?" she pleaded
aloud, angrily, eagerly, bitterly.

Eugene was absolutely in a fury of feeling. If ever he thoroughly hated
and despised Angela, he did so at that moment. To think that she should
have done anything like this! To think that she should have complicated
this problem of weariness of her with a thing like this! How cheap it
was, how shabby! It showed the measure of the woman, to bring a child
into the world, regardless of the interests of the child, in order to
hold him against his will. Damn! Hell! God damn such a complicated,
rotten world! No, she was lying. She could not hold him that way. It was
a horrible, low, vile trick. He would have nothing to do with her. He
would show her. He would leave her. He would show her that this sort of
thing would not work with him. It was like every other petty thing she
had ever done. Never, never, never, would he let this stand in the way.
Oh, what a mean, cruel, wretched thing to do!

Suzanne came back while they were arguing. She half suspected what it
was all about, but she did not dare to act or think clearly. The events
of this night were too numerous, too complicated. Eugene had said so
forcibly it was a lie whatever it was, that she half believed him. That
was a sign surely of the little affection that existed between him and
Angela. Angela was not crying. Her face was hard, white, drawn.

"I can't stay here," said Suzanne dramatically to Eugene. "I will go
somewhere. I had better go to a hotel for the night. Will you call a
car?"

"Listen to me, Suzanne," said Eugene vigorously and determinedly. "You
love me, don't you?"

"You know I do," she replied.

Angela stirred sneeringly.

"Then you will stay here. I want you to pay no attention to anything she
may say or declare. She has told me a lie tonight. I know why. Don't let
her deceive you. Go to your room and your bed. I want to talk to you
tomorrow. There is no need of your leaving tonight. There is plenty of
room here. It's silly. You're here now--stay."

"But I don't think I'd better stay," said Suzanne nervously.

Eugene took her hand reassuringly.

"Listen to me," he began.