I don't hate you.

I only despise you with all my heart.

I want you to go before I despise myself as well!" Her own cruel disillusioning--her own unbearable sense of loss--swept over her afresh; her voice rose again, and again broke hysterically.

With an uncontrolled movement of grief and mortification she turned away from him and threw herself upon a couch, burying her face in the pillows.
For several minutes she cried tempestuously; then through the storm of her angry tears she caught the sound of a closing door.

With a start she sat up and looked about her.
The faint relic of daylight still showed through the curtains of the window; the firelight still played pleasantly on the untouched tea-table and the fragile furniture; but the room was empty.