It was a strange conclusion to a speech so coldly and distantly begun.
"For God's sake, don't go!" said I, bending a little across the table toward her.
"What's it to you?
What's it to anybody ?" came from between her fingers.
"Your mother--" I began.
She dropped her hands from her face, and laughed.

It was a laugh the like of which I hope not to hear again.

Then she broke out: "Why wouldn't she have me in the house?
Why did she run away?
Am I unfit to touch her ?" "If she were wrong, you're doing your best to make her right." "If everybody thinks one wicked, one may as well be wicked, and--and live in peace." "And get diamonds ?" I added, "Weren't you wicked ?" "No," she said, looking me straight in the face.

"But what difference did that make ?" "None at all, in one point of view," said I.But to myself I was swearing that she should not go.
Then she said in a very low tone: "He never leaves me.

Ah! he makes everyone think--" "Let 'em think," said I.
"If everyone thinks it--" "Oh, come, nonsense!" said I.
"You know what you thought.