"
"I don't know. ... Why must I do something? Why can't I just wait--
and let him do what--whatever is done?"
"Because--if I know anything about Bonbright--he won't do a thing.
... He'll just step aside quietly and make no fuss. I'm afraid he's--
hurt. And he's been hurt so much before."
"I'm--sorry." The words sounded weak, ineffectual. They did not
express her feelings, her remorse, her self-accusation.
"Sorry?... You haven't cut a dance with him, you know, or kept him
waiting while you did your hair. ... You've more or less messed up
his life. Yes, you have. There isn't any use mincing words. Your
motives may have been lofty and noble and all that sort of thing--
from your point of view. But HIS point of view is what I'm thinking
about now. ... Sorry!"
"Don't scold. I can't--bear it. I can't bear anything more. ...
Please go away. I know you despise me. Leave me alone. Go away..."
"I'll do nothing of the kind. You're all upset-and you deserve a heap
more than scolding.
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