‘As for you—’ ‘Do not address me. It came again. He had dungarees on and a blue work shirt. That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him! Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions, numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own first utterance of the word. "Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone. “The rest,” she said, holding tightly to his hands, “is the most important of all. When I think of the love you give me—One ought to give you back love.
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