Haven't You Any Soul?

"Yes, and you told me who it was with, too," Molly thrust back in his teeth.

"Exactly, because there's no reason why I shouldn't. I've taken an extreme interest in the little girl.... You offended me by talking against her."

Molly's temper was rising by the minute. She had armored herself with a statement, the truth of which she would force upon him.

"I'm not sure I said anything that wasn't true," she returned discourteously.

Theodore leaned back in his chair.

"Then you didn't mean it when you said you were sorry?" he demanded shortly.

"I wanted you to go with me, that's all."

"And you took that way to make me. Was that it?"

Molly picked up her pen and made a few marks with it.

"I'm not interested in Miss Grandoken," she replied.

"So I notice," retorted Theodore, provokingly.

She turned around upon him with angry, sparkling eyes.

"I think you've a lot of nerve to bring her into your home."

She hazarded this without thought of consequences.

"What do you mean?" he asked presently, searching her face with an analytical gaze.

Molly was wrought up to the point of invention, perhaps because she was madly jealous.

"Men generally keep that sort of a woman to themselves," she explained. "A home is usually sacred to the ordinary man."

Theodore was stung to silence. It was a bitter fling, and his thoughts worked rapidly. It took a long moment for his tall figure to get up from the chair.