"You think it's the thin edge of the wedge?" I said. "The
beginning of the end and all that kind of thing?"

"You will go on," she cried. "You will become a dependent in this
house, a hanger-on, a sponger. I will hate you. You will hate
yourself. It went through me like a knife when I found it out."

I smoked my cigar in silence. I suppose she was quite right--
horribly right, though I didn't like her any better for being so
plain-spoken about it. I felt myself turning red under her gaze.

"What do you want me to do?" I said at length.

"Pay it back," she said.

"I wish to God I could," I said. "But you know how I live, Teresa,
hanging on by the skin of my teeth--hardly able to keep my head
above water, let alone having a dollar to spare."

"Then you can't pay," she said.

"I don't think I can," I returned.

"Then you ought to leave this house," she said.

"You have certainly made it impossible for me to stay, Teresa," I
said.

"I want to make it impossible," she cried. "You--you don't
understand--you think I'm cruel--it's because I like you, Hugo--