Ursula drew away, closed in a violent silence. He knitted his brows, and his eyes began to sparkle again in anger.
“You don’t mind, do you?” he asked irritably.
“No, I don’t care. Why should I? Why should I mind?” Her tone was jeering and offensive.
“That’s what I ask myself,” he said; “why should you mind! But you seem to.” His brows were tense with violent irritation.
“I assure you I don’t, I don’t mind in the least. Go where you belong—it’s what I want you to do.”
“Ah you fool!” he cried, “with your ‘go where you belong.’ It’s finished between Hermione and me. She means much more to you, if it comes to that, than she does to me. For you can only revolt in pure reaction from her—and to be her opposite is to be her counterpart.”
“Ah, opposite!” cried Ursula. “I know your dodges. I