you been calling her, you lying, hypocritical coward! What names have
you for her, Hypocrite! Brute! Liar! I know what you've been doing. Oh,
how well I know! Why was I ever born?--oh, why, why?"

Her voice trailed off in a wail of agony. Eugene stood there astonished
to the point of inefficiency. He could not think of a single thing to do
or say. He had no idea upon what evidence she based her complaint. He
fancied that it must be much more than had been contained in that little
note which he had torn up. She had not seen that--of that he was
reasonably sure--or was he? Could she have taken it out of the box while
he was in the bath and then put it back again? This sounded like it. She
had looked very bad that night. How much did she know? Where had she
secured this information? Mrs. Hibberdell? Carlotta? No! Had she seen
her? Where? When?

"You're talking through your hat," he said aimlessly and largely in
order to get time. "You're crazy! What's got into you, anyhow? I haven't
been doing anything of the sort."

"Oh, haven't you!" she sneered. "You haven't been meeting her at bridges
and road houses and street cars, have you? You liar! You haven't been
calling her 'Ashes of Roses' and 'River Nymph' and 'Angel Girl.'" Angela
was making up names and places out of her own mind. "I suppose you used
some of the pet names on her that you gave to Christina Channing, didn't
you? She'd like those, the vile strumpet! And you, you dog, pretending
to me--pretending sympathy, pretending loneliness, pretending sorrow
that I couldn't be here! A lot you cared what I was doing or thinking or
suffering. Oh, I hate you, you horrible coward! I hate her! I hope
something terrible happens to you. If I could get at her now I would
kill her and you both--and myself. I would! I wish I could die! I wish I
could die!"

Eugene was beginning to get the measure of his iniquity as Angela
interpreted it. He could see now how cruelly he had hurt her. He could
see now how vile what he was doing looked in her eyes. It was bad
business--running with other women--no doubt of it. It always ended in
something like this--a terrible storm in which he had to sit by and hear
himself called brutal names to which there was no legitimate answer. He
had heard of this in connection with other people, but he had never
thought it would come to him. And the worst of it was that he was guilty
and deserving of it. No doubt of that. It lowered him in his own
estimat