It was the sickness of the unrecognised and incomprehensible strain between him and her.
After a time she put down her sewing, and sat again in her chair.
"Do you know how vilely you've treated me ?" she said, staring across the space at him.

He averted his face.
Yet he answered, not without irony.
"I suppose so." "And why ?" she cried.

"I should like to know why." He did not answer.

The way she rushed in made him go vague.
"Justify yourself.

Say why you've been so vile to me.