His temper grew worse. In his weakness he really had thought it likely that Madeline would suggest something hopeful. Men of his stamp constantly entertain unreasonable expectations, and are angry when the unreason is forced upon their consciousness.
"One word before you go, please," said Madeline, standing up and speaking with emphasis. " After what you said just now, this is, of course, our last interview of this kind. When we meet again — and I think it would be gentlemanly in you to go and live somewhere else — you are Mr. Marsh, and I, if you please, am Miss Denver."
"I will bear it in mind."
"Thank you." He still lingered near the door. " Be good enough to leave me."
He made an effort and left the room. When the door had closed, Madeline heaved a deep sigh, and was for some minutes in a brown, if not a black, study. Then she shivered a little, sighed again, and again took up the volume she had been reading. It was Daudet's "Les Femmes d' Artistes."
