Early in her acquaintance with him she had discovered
that determining factors in his character were
sensitiveness about his origin and sensitiveness about his
social position. On this knowledge of his weaknesses was
securely based her confidence that she could act as she
pleased toward him. To ease her pains she proceeded
to pour out her private opinion of him--all the
disagreeable things, all the insults she had been storing
up.

She watched him as only a woman can watch a man.
She saw that his rage was not dangerous, that she was
forcing him into a position where fear of her revenging
herself by disgracing him would overcome anger at
the collapse of his fatuous dreams of wealth. She did
not despise him the more deeply for sitting there, for
not flying from the room or trying to kill her or somehow
compelling her to check that flow of insult. She
already despised him utterly; also, she attached small
importance to self-respect, having no knowledge of what
that quality really is.

When she grew tired, she became quiet. They sat
there a long time in silence. At last he ran up the white
flag of abject surrender by saying:

``What'll we live on--that's what I'd like to know?''

An eavesdropper upon the preceding violence of
upward of an hour would have assumed that at its end this