"I shall begin to hate you in a minute." But Phil could be determined, too.
"Can't help it," he said; but there was genuine regret in his voice.
"You'll have to, I'm afraid." He was scarcely prepared for the effect of his words.

She flung away from him in tempestuous anger and turned as if to leave the room.

But before she reached the door some other impulse apparently overtook her.
She stopped abruptly with her back to Phil, and stood for what seemed to him interminable seconds, fumbling with her handkerchief.
Then, before he had fully realised the approaching catastrophe, her self-control suddenly deserted her.

She sank into a chair with her hands over her face and began to cry.
Now, Phil was young, and no woman had ever thus abandoned herself to tears in his presence before.

The sight sent a sharp shock through him that was almost like a dart of physical pain.