An obstinate little boy--you DO feel wrong.

And you ARE wrong.

And you've got to say it." But quietly he disengaged himself and got to his feet, his face pale and set, obstinate as she said.

He put his hat on, and took his little bag.
She watched him curiously, still crouching by his chair.
"I'll go," he said, putting his hand on the latch.
Suddenly she sprang to her feet and clutched him by the shirt-neck, her hand inside his soft collar, half strangling him.
"You villain," she said, and her face was transfigured with passion as he had never seen it before, horrible.

"You villain!" she said thickly.
"What have you come here for ?" His soul went black as he looked at her.