“Sounds very stupid,” she commented languidly.

“People do sometimes die of love, even nowadays,” he said, tremulously—­“in the South.”

She let her eyes drift indifferently to him and perceived that he was trembling from head to foot; that his hands and knees shook piteously; that his lips quivered and twitched; and, at sight of this agitation, an expression of strong distaste came to her face.

“I see.”  Her eyes returned to the lamp.  “You’re from the South, and of course it’s going to kill you.”

“You didn’t speak the exact words you had in your mind.’”

“Oh, what words did I have `in my mind’?” she asked impatiently.

“What you really meant was:  `If it does kill you, what of it?’”

She laughed, and sighed as for release.

“Cora,” he said huskily, “I understand you a little because you possess me.  I’ve never—­literally never—­had another thought since the first time I saw you:  nothing but you.  I think of you—­actually every moment.  Drunk or sober, asleep or—­awake, it’s nothing but you, you, you!  It will never be different:  I don’t know why I can’t get over it—­I only know I can’t.  You own me; you burn like a hot coal in my heart.  You’re through with me, I know.  You drained me dry.  You’re like a child who eats so heartily of what he likes that he never touches it again.  And I’m a dish you’re sick of.  Oh, it’s all plain enough, I can tell you.  I’m not exciting any more—­no, just a nauseous slave!”

“Do you want people to hear you?” she inquired angrily, for his voice had risen.

He tempered his tone.  “Cora, when you liked me you went a pretty clipping gait with me,” he said, trembling even more than before.  “But you’re infinitely more infatuated with this Toreador of a Corliss than you were with me; you’re lost in him; you’re slaving for him as I would for you.  How far are you going with——­”

“Do you want me to walk away and leave you?” she asked, suddenly sitting up straight and looking at him with dilating eyes.  “If you want a `scene’——­”

“It’s over,” he said, more calmly.  “I know now how dangerous the man is.  Of course you will tell him I said that.”  He laughed quietly.  “Well—­between a dangerous chap and a desperate one, we may look for some lively times!  Do you know, I believe I think about as continuously of him, lately, as I do of you.  That’s why I put almost my last cent into his oil company, and got what may be almost my last dance with you!”

“I wouldn’t call it `almost’ your last dance with me!” she returned icily.  “Not after what you’ve said.  I had a foolish idea you could behave—­well, at least decently.”

“Did Corliss tell you that I insulted him in his rooms at the hotel?”

“You!” She laughed, genuinely.  “I see him letting you!”