“Fix me up?”
“Yes—fix you up! Don’t you understand?”
Realization of what he meant came slowly to her. A bitterness filled her, bitterness that knew no end, bitterness worse than any she had ever known before. This, then, was the Carl she had loved, a shriveling coward. What a fool she had been to have believed that to him their love was the beautiful thing which it had been to her.
“My dad’ll kill me for this—he’ll drive me away like a dog …” Carl was saying hoarsely.
He straightened up, fear leaving him.
“No—no—Mimi. We’ll go straight to mother and she’ll help us. We’ll go away and get married—pretend we eloped.”
He sought to put his arms around her. In his gesture there was a new note of possessiveness, his indecisiveness of the minutes before now gone.
She shrank from his touch. Her head went high and in her eyes was a look that frightened him.
“We’ll do nothing of the kind!” she cried. “I was a fool—you are right. I thought you were fine—clean—different from the others. You’re not. You’re just the same weak, vile sort that you were always hating and denouncing.”
“That’s all right, Mimi,” he sought to quiet her. “You’re all unstrung now. We’ll get married and give the kid a clean name—”
Mimi looked at him and in that glance was something that silenced him.